


Of Light

by Amoris



Series: The Emerald 'Verse [1]
Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, F/M, Family, Friendship, Post-Canon, Romance, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoris/pseuds/Amoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Emerald must be returned to its Guardian, and DG is left behind. When a threat from her family's past resurfaces, DG must gather more than courage to save her sister, and find Wyatt Cain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.net and LJ on 11.19.08
> 
> This repost is an idea I've been toying with for a long time, and was inspired by my recent rewatch (as I introduced my boyfriend to the movie that started it all). It's dedicated to all the wonderful women I've met in this fandom over the long years.
> 
> Mind the tags, and please enjoy.

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

The Queen of the O.Z. wandered a fitful path at night.

Unaccustomed to the physical aspects of life outside her barren prison, a body that required food and sleep, her life had become routineless, and she felt a slave to her body's desires, like an infant. She ate what food was put before her by her staff, and she slept when fatigue overcame her. But at night, when her husband slept peacefully, she would leave her bedchamber and walk the halls of the restored palace at Finaqua.

The week following the Eclipse, and the events of the Witch's Tower, she'd shifted constantly between boundless energy and debilitating exhaustion. The regime of Azkadellia's tyranny crumbled as word leaked down the floors that the witch had been killed, and proof in the sky that their plans had failed. Hundreds of Longcoats had been captured by Resistance fighters, and imprisoned within their own fortress.

As that historic day (had it only been a month before?) came to a close, as the suns set on their celestial path and natural darkness fell over the land, the royal family and their accompaniment moved quietly to an abandoned embassy within the walls of the Central City. The Queen and her consort had made a public announcement the next day from the platform in Central City Square, that the Sorceress Azkadellia had been overthrown, and made known for the first time to the lands of the O.Z. of their daughter's possession, of the Dark Witch who had lived within her body and taken over the country. They spoke of the survival of their youngest daughter, the Princess Dorothigale, though both young women remained sequestered within the protective walls of the embassy, safe from those who would do them harm.

In her selfishness, restoring the lakeside palace had been one of the first projects the Queen personally oversaw. The servants of the Witch's tower were sent to Finaqua, a welcome relief to the terror-filled men and women who had been under enslavement to the Sorceress for so long. DG had laughed, seeing the servants off with a company of men spared by the Resistance army. She'd volunteered to the task. "It will be my first royal duty, Mother," she'd said. Coming back from the docking bay where she'd witnessed the departure, she was still grinning. "You'd think that you were sending them on vacation, instead of back to work."

The Queen had said nothing. DG, though her guilt for past events permeated most everything she did, had no real idea of the pain and mistreatment the people of the O.Z. - HER people - had suffered for so long under the Sorceress' reign. Tin suits, dead orchards, and tense Resistance fighters did little to convey to the young princess the terror of nine annuals of Azkadellia's rule.

When the palace was suitable for the royal family to move in, they had done so without delay. While DG had kept up conversation, speaking to Glitch mostly about the Other Side, telling him things of thirteen year school systems ("Really? They keep them there that long?") and her motorcycle, quiet Azkadellia had stared out the window, watching as they slowly passed through the dense forest, one tree bleeding into the next. Her oldest daughter had barely blinked as the army truck jolted over ruts and tree roots that had overtaken the untended road. Out of the corner of her eye, the Queen kept a watchful gaze on her elder daughter, constantly aware of the sweet mouth that had poured threats and death for so many annuals.

"Will we be at Finaqua soon?" DG asked her mother. The Queen, brought back to her reality, nodded. DG sighed, and reached over to take her sister's hand. Azkadellia's pale fingers gripped DG's, but her eyes did not leave the scenery bouncing past outside.

 

 

The first night within the walls of her beloved family home, her sleeplessness had surprised her. Thinking of herself as free for the first time, truly free, since her imprisonment nine annuals before, she'd made love to her husband in her grand bedroom suite. The ghosts of the past, fifteen annuals of separation, had left them clinging to each other in a way that had both surprised and fulfilled her. But as Ahamo fell asleep beside her, relaxed and drained, her lavender eyes had stayed open, watching shadows fall across the room. Darkness, it always captured fear in her, somewhere deep inside. Her prison had never been dark, only one long endless day of rolling white sky.

On that night began her journeys through the halls of Finaqua. Roaming through rooms yet unfinished, ghosts of furniture looming up from corners, windows so dirty she couldn't see outside. She'd rushed the staff, moved in as soon as the palace had been considered "inhabitable". Almost everything was still incomplete, some rooms still closed, locked. Every mirror she passed, she refused to look into. Demons seemed to lurk up behind her, and in the reflective glass, she could see them. Demons of past mistakes, of a blundering future none of them could predict. Ahamo had suggested consulting a Viewer, perhaps DG's friend and guardian, Raw. Would she consider it? No, never, of course not.

Days were spent seeking moments of reprieve, of rest. Endless stacks of documents, reinstating one parliament official or the next, erased towns seeking aid to rebuild, bringing peace and order back to the melting pot of the Central City, redeeming the Tin Men. The Army of Resistance, a title bestowed by the Queen to her new official force, were pushing her to pursue Longcoats that, rumour had it, were gathering en masse near the borders of the desert to the West. Personal issues were put aside in those first weeks, when the paperwork would not cease. Azkadellia's refusal to speak, DG's restlessness at being cooped up in the palace, the reinsertion of Ambrose's brain... every matter close to her heart had to wait. A sundered country needed her more.

At first, she hadn't worried about the girls. Thought, a little foolishly perhaps, that their friendship and love would overcome the barrier around Azkadellia. She would often find them in the only parlour that was clean and ordered, clasping hands on the window seat, staring out at the lake. No light shone between them; it was just the holding of hands, the comforting touch of skin. DG watched her sister, seeking redemption, but Az had none to give; none for her sister and none for herself.

During her wanderings, the Queen had discovered both of her daughters, her beautiful dark-haired girls, were sharing her unrest. Though both young women slept, their slumber was fitful. DG thrashed in her bed, shifting her weight back and forth, flailing arms; she muttered, words The Queen had to creep close to hear. She did not fear for DG, as the girl whispered in her sleep memories that were leaking through the broken magical barriers; very few memories remained, but DG was beginning to remember them.

Azkadellia's sleep was plagued by pain. Watching from the doorway, scared to go any closer, she saw Az's head roll from side to side on the pillows; she heard whimpers of terror escape from her daughter's throat, raw and haunted. Azkadellia, a prisoner in her own right, faced the guilt of survival, the evil taint left by the Witch.

"They have much to overcome," Ahamo reassured her, when she'd spoken of her concerns, of the nighttime path she cut between the two bedrooms. She'd lowered her own head to the pillow for three hours of unrest before being awoken with much fanfare, much to-do, and many a bright "Good morning, your Majesty!" Her eyes burned, but her sense of purpose for the day had already taken over her mind.

"My darling, what they have to overcome stretches far beyond the horror of the Tower. She still refuses to speak, trapping herself in her own misery and guilt."

"Well," Ahamo said, thoughtfully. "What would you have her say? Do you want her to apologize to you, like a reprimanded child? To stand before the country, and be punished for her crimes?" His words were harsh, but his tone soft.

The Queen shook her head. "No, of course not. But a word, just one! Or a smile, something to let us know that our daughter is still within that shell of a body."

"The remorse she shows is enough to let us know that she truly is." Ahamo sipped his coffee, watching his wife over the steaming cup. "I'm a little surprised she hasn't collapsed yet, carrying around the weight that she does. Helping you lay the Emerald to rest once again will help bring her to her senses. And DG... DG is doing a wonderful job trying to bring her sister out into the light."

He laughed, watching as his wife shook her head and tried to suppress a roll of her eyes. "DG is another matter that worries me."

He put a hand over hers. "I think DG is the least of our worries."


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

_\- Finaqua -  
_

* * *

DG walked the lake shore with Raw once a day. Most times were quiet, as he always had little to say; occasionally, she'd find herself overcome with the need to speak of silly things, Other Side things. He always nodded though, like he knew of alternators that refused to keep a battery charged, and of charcoals that made black look so unnaturally... _black_. She enjoyed his hushed, monosyllabic responses, and his calming nature, the way it always managed to quell the uneasiness that she felt in her new life and royal role. Truth be told, she _needed_ their walks together.

"Mother and Az travel tomorrow to the Tombs. 'To lay the Emerald to rest'. I get to stay home, all by myself. No babysitter!"

Raw chuckled low in his throat. "DG has entire palace of babysitters. Father will still be at Finaqua."

DG smiled. She watched the shoreline for fish basking in the sun and reeds. "And you, too, Raw. And Tutor, and Glitch. And an entire staff of people watching everything I do. I swear I'm going to suffocate. I thought Mother and Az would take a parade of people with them, but..." She trailed off. Only Cain and a handful of Resistance soldiers would accompany her mother and Azkadellia.

_But, why Cain?_

She'd asked herself too many times. Raw did not interrupt her thoughts, just walked quietly beside her. He was surprised when she spoke again, on a completely different train of thought.

"A month and a half since I left the Other Side, Raw." She stopped walking, her bare feet sinking a depression in the soft, wet ground. The suns bore down brightly, wanting to snuff out her thoughts with laziness and warmth. "You know, I wonder all the time if my friends ever questioned where I went. If my parents and I – my foster-robot parents I mean – were reported missing. We disappeared! Gone! Just … poof." The last word fell, anticlimactic.

Raw stood silent. She turned to him, bright blue eyes filling with tears. "I don't know if our house was destroyed by that Travel Storm. What happens to a house that has a Travel Storm sidle right up to it? Glitch doesn't know, he says it's information he keeps in his other brain." She tossed her friend a smile; her Other Side self still thought the idea of removing the brain and retaining the mind ridiculous. "And Tutor, his 'field of study' is magic, not meteorologic alchemy."

DG was quiet a long time, staring out at the reflections of the suns on the water. Finaqua.

"I wonder when someone noticed, is all. My boss at the diner would have fired me over an answering machine, never thought that something might have happened to me and my family. Was it when Pop didn't show up at the hardware store for a couple of days? Did one of his friends come, to see the farm destroyed and us not there?  Do... do they think we're dead?"

Again, silence. Raw put his gloved hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. Her despair radiated through her skin, and he wondered, momentarily, how long she had worried about this. It was deeply rooted, cloaked by tears and clouds of emotion. Hard to read.

An insect, close kin to a dragonfly, bright red and dual winged, flitted past her face. Its flight clicked, adding to the realness of where she was, and of what she was speaking. "I don't miss my life on the Other Side," she said. "I just wonder when or if it missed me."

 

 

She hadn't changed her dress before dinner, and so the subject of etiquette lessons came up again over their soup.

"Wasn't there a dress laid out for you in your room?" her mother asked.

DG shrugged. "There might have been. I came to dinner straight from the library."

"The library? What were you reading about?" Ahamo inquired of his daughter. He was not fazed by his anxious wife, but comfortable sitting among his family.

"Travel storms," DG said, a little offhandedly. "I was just wondering how they worked, if you had to summon them or if they occur naturally..."

Ahamo smiled. "Well, you won't need to worry about Travel Storms. It's hard to get a royal escort to agree to use one. If you need to go anywhere, a car or carriage will take you there easily." He caught her eye, and gave his head the slightest shake.

DG thought a subject change was in order. "Do you know how long you will be gone?" she asked her mother. Their soup bowls were cleared away by attendants and their supper brought out. The queen folded her napkin, and smiled at her daughter.

"Not long. Three days, perhaps. We can't travel by car for most of the trip."

DG pushed away an image of her mother navigating her father's balloon, silk dress and hat pins. "Horseback?" she asked. Her mother nodded. Horses, and riding, had ended up being her saving grace in her new life. She'd grown up in a farming community, and although she wasn't trained properly, although she rode faster and harder than even Ahamo, she didn't make a fool of herself. And that was something.

"Ambrose," her mother said, "will you please remind me what time Captain Cain will arrive tomorrow?"

"He'll probably be here tonight, actually.  Around midnight," Glitch said, quite unceremoniously. While DG was used to his... _obliviousness_ , she knew her mother had a harder time accepting the new Ambrose. With his brain back inside his head and his hair growing back after the removal of the classifying zipper, he was a man who suffered most of the day with mental overload. "He and the rest of your escort will be ready to leave by first sunrise."

 

 

After dinner, DG sat in Azkadellia's bedroom. She was at the foot of the bed, her sister sitting up at the headboard, under the covers, her legs tremulous. DG put a hand on her sister's ankle, and continued what had become their routine. DG talked, so Az wouldn't have to.

"I stopped and washed my hands after touching those mouldy old books! Then I went to dinner. My dress wasn't dirty!"

Az smiled, then waited, but DG didn't continue. So she spoke, words that poured more easily than she thought they might. "I'll be glad to leave tomorrow. I want this trip over with. The Emerald needs to be safe guarded, not sitting in my jewelry box like a cheap trinket." She shook her head. DG watched her sister, sympathetically. The Emerald seemed to be leaving a larger taint than the Witch. Tutor studied at the Queen's request, but there were few texts that spoke of the stone. Everyone wanted it buried again.

"I might stay up until Cain's group arrives. I haven't seen him since we left Central City." He'd stayed behind in the city, tracking down fallen Tin Men, again at the Queen's request. DG had asked him twice to Finaqua, and once threatened to come to Central City with Ambrose to see him, but all her summons were politely declined, an afterthought in official dispatches sent to her mother about his progress in his task.

"You'll run into Mother in the halls," her sister warned. "She doesn't sleep at night. I heard them speaking about it yesterday." Az smirked, the closest she'd come to a laugh in all the time since the Tower, and DG squeezed her ankle, trying to be supportive, non-intrusive. It was the first time she'd heard her sister speak since that night, a month before.

"You'd better go find a hiding spot while she's still pretending to go to bed," Az said, and nudged DG away with her foot. DG nodded, said goodnight to her sister, and left the room quietly.

Azkadellia got up out of bed, and went to her window. A single moon lay reflected in the surface of the lake. She could see a breeze whipping through the reeds; she opened the window. Her body carried itself to bed, her mind separated, back with the sound of the whispering fields beyond the lake.

 

 

Glitch beckoned to DG from the empty parlour. "I won't ask you why you aren't in your room," he said with a grin, closing the double doors behind her. "They'll pass by here walking their horses, and we can go out through the kitchen door and back to the stable."

"You've been plotting," DG laughed. She sat down in a soft armchair, and pulled up her knees. Glitch flopped down onto a sofa, lounging back. "How's your head?"

"It still feels too full," he said, placing long fingers on his temples. "And I can't get the Sunceder out of my mind. My brain was focused on that one thing for too long. It's burned there, it'll never go away." She couldn't tell if her friend was being dramatic, or if he was really worried. But the next second, he was off on another thought. "Captain Cain," he said, and shook his head. "Do I have to salute him? I know you don't, you're a princess."

"I salute no one," DG said with as much authority as she could muster without laughing. Her eyes wandered the wall shelf across from her, stacked with thick books. This room had been thoroughly cleaned, and she doubted these would spit as much dust at her as the books in the library had.

"Your mother has given me the task of demolishing the Witch's tower. She wants the entire thing scrapped. Salt the earth, that type of thing. A lot of towns will be glad for the building materials," he said. Sometimes DG had trouble switching from Glitch to Ambrose as fast as he did.

_Maybe coming downstairs was a bad idea._

"Why was Cain assigned to my mother's detail, Ambrose?" she asked.

"He was requested by your sister," he replied; he rose and walked to the bookshelf. After a moment, he chose a volume and returned to his seat on the sofa with it, sitting upright this time, a little more dignified. Cracking it at a random place, he began to read. DG glared at him, trying to decide if Ambrose had opened the book as an end to their conversation, or if he'd simply become distracted. She sighed, not wanting to interrupt him. She glanced out the window; the glass showed nothing but reflection and darkness.

"There wasn't anyone else higher than a Tin Man?" DG asked him finally. She knew that rebuilding the army of the O.Z. was a mission whose outcome was hazy at best. After the usurpation, most of the Zone's army had vowed allegiance to Azkadellia; those who did not had gone into hiding, joined the Resistance. Those who were caught were killed outright; no tin suits or torture.

"He was requested by your sister, _specially,_ " he said. Then he laughed. He looked at DG over his book. "She wanted the man who helped you so much."

"You and Raw helped me _as_ much," DG pointed out. Ambrose shook his head, and went back to his book. "She's getting better, you know. She actually _talked_ to me tonight."

"Well, that's something." He didn't look up at her again.

Moments passed by, the clock on the wall ticking away the uncomfortable seconds. Silence with Glitch had once been golden, but now she would have rather had his rambling. Finally... "What are you reading?"

"No idea," he said, and laid the book open in his lap. "It was going on about trading protocols within the different regions of the O.Z. But it kept mentioning products that I've never heard of. Or forgot about. So I figure I'll just read until I remember. There are some books over there about the Gale dynasty, if you're interested."

DG didn't think a book would be able to hold her attention at the moment. It was getting late, the clock on the wall said it was growing close to midnight. "I think I'm going to go sit in the gazebo, I'll be able to see them come around the maze from there. I'll see you down there, if you can tear yourself away from your book."

"No, I'll come with you." He put the book aside, stood and stretched his lanky frame. His state of dress was somewhat dishevelled, collar unbuttoned and jacket open. DG led the way out the side door and down a passage that led them directly to the kitchen. Together they stumbled blindly to the gazebo by the lake. By the time they reached the open platform, Ambrose had tripped over a thick root sticking out over the path and DG had put her foot in the water. Otherwise unscathed, they sat on the step, away from the swing.

The night sky was littered with stars. DG sat back on her hands, staring upwards. "Are there constellations?" she wondered aloud.

"Some, not many," he said, following her gaze. "I can't remember most of them. But there is the Bell, and I think there is one with a bear."

"They have a bear constellation on the Other Side, too," DG mused. "I couldn't tell you where it was in the sky, but I know it was up there somewhere. I think there was a big one and a little one. Major and minor."

"If Cain keeps up these missions for your mother, he'll be up for Major. Uniform and regalia and shiny medals," Ambrose shook his head and chucked to himself. "Can you imagine them trying to fight that man out of his hat?"

"Yeah, he sure does like his hat," she said, casting a sidelong glance at her companion. An image of Cain swam before her eyes. She missed him. Her connections with this world, while prestigious, were few. She felt comfortable with Cain, the way he could manage the ground beneath his feet. He was practical, no nonsense, like the people she'd grown up around. He was small-town, Cain. She wondered, briefly, if he'd always been serious, quiet, non-reflective, or had the horrors of his imprisonment altered him in that way.

Ambrose hummed a little to himself. DG decided to risk it. "Why did Azkadellia _specially_ request Cain for this?"

He stopped humming, and shook his head a little. He stared skyward still. "You'd have to ask her, DG. Her orders were sealed in a letter sent directly to the Captain. She didn't speak to me personally about it. Hasn't talked to me at all, actually, since the Fall and the return to Finaqua. Still sees this, I think," he said, and gestured vaguely to the uneven hair on his crown.

DG strained her ears, but all she could hear was the sound of insects, the breeze, the water lapping the shore. It was a different kind of night than the ones she'd had in Kansas, staring out her tiny attic window, but somehow it reminded her of home. But then out of nowhere, the sound of horses, the slow plod of hooves hitting the packed dirt of the road that wound around the maze broke through her thoughts and the night magic.

Cain's party had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

_\- The Fields of the Papay -_

* * *

Finaqua was a full day's journey from Central City. Wyatt Cain and his company of men, five young Resistance fighters still high off their triumph at the Tower a month before, left at first sunrise in a military transportation truck. As they approached the Papay fields, Cain shook his head, glancing down to his hands. His last trip south had been perilous, every second worrying about not only his life, but a princess who randomly discharged magic from her hands. It felt almost like a cruel joke that he would travel to the gorge unhindered, and ride south from there on a healthy mount.

"Trees are comin' back really fast," the driver of the vehicle, an old royal army veteran, commented. His gnarled hands gripped the steering wheel in the proper driving position, and though he watched the road, he talked of the scenery. "Heard a man down in Central City talkin' about how it was the Light coming back into the country what brought the trees back to life."

"Well," said Cain thoughtfully, pushing the brim of his hat up so he could see more of the orchards, "I wouldn't know what to tell you about the Light or the trees. Life is more than coincidence." He watched branches that overhung the road. Green shoots burst forth from most tree limbs, a few even sported soft pink blossoms. He thought, perhaps, he saw a Papay granger walking the rows, treating the trees, but it was difficult to tell at their steady speed. A glimpse, and then lost.

"Looks like most all the fields will be all right. I hope myself it's a bountiful harvest. Sick to death of the fare in Central City. All processed, magicked; it's garbage. Who wants it? Fresh fruit. Apples, you remember apples?"

Cain rolled his eyes. "Of course I remember apples. Might not be able to remember what they taste like, though."

He opened the window behind him, looking out on the flatbed covered with canvas. His five servicemen were sitting with their backs to the wood planks that made up the side of the box, talking to each other. Over the sound of the road and their own conversation, none of the men had heard him open the window, didn't know he was listening. Azkadellia was their topic. It seemed not one of them knew what to think about the task they'd been given. Protecting a princess who was a usurper, whose reign of terror had touched all their lives. Why had they all joined the Resistance in the first place, but to fight Azkadellia and her army. Now they were ordered to protect her?

"The Queen, too. She'll be with us as well."

Cain closed the window, turned back to the road. He knew the men were not informed of the reason for their being assigned to the two royals. The Queen herself had chosen the men from stacks of papers sent to her by Jeb Cain, photos and service details.

But Cain's first surprise had hit him when the envelope bearing her Majesty's royal seal had arrived on his desk at the new Tin Man Armouries in the Central City. The second surprise lay inside the envelope. On top of the records of the five chosen soldiers lay a letter for him from the Princess Azkadellia. She summoned him to lead the group. The writing was delicate, seeming to Cain that if he breathed too hard on the paper, the fragile words would break apart. News coming from the palace – unofficial word from Ambrose, not anything released for the general public – was that Azkadellia kept herself secluded, rarely spoke to anyone, only spent time with DG, or only in the company of others if she was forced. "She's ashamed, she can barely look anyone in the face," was what Glitch had told him. Of DG, when he asked his friend had nothing new to report. "She fights with her mother about petty things. She rides her horse too fast, runs through the hallways, comes home dirty."

Cain smiled out the window at the thought of DG, dressed in some soft gauzy thing, her hair unruly and her blue eyes twinkling mischief.

"How long until we reach the gorge?" Cain asked the vet.

"About another hour and a half or so," his companion estimated. "I don't know why I ain't taking you all the way south to the lake country. The road goes almost the full way to Finaqua. But drop you off at the bridge, them are my orders."

Cain said nothing. He was not privy to speak of such confidential matters.

The night before, Jeb had made a brief stop at Cain's apartment a few blocks from the Armouries in the Bellicose District. He had chosen to stay with the Army of Resistance instead of joining his father with the Tin Men, as Cain had subtly suggested once. The younger Cain had passed up several official promotions, promotions that would have taken him to a higher rank than his father. Of this they did not speak, though Cain wondered if his son knew that his advancement would be a source of great pride.

"Do you know how long until you'll be back in Central City?" Jeb had asked, sitting at the small kitchen table. The entire apartment was unadorned. Cain's new salary could have afforded him a place much larger than this. Even Jeb's own place was a little bigger, a better view. But, it was just another of many things that was left alone.

"Oh, it depends. To leave Finaqua and come back safely, perhaps three or four days. Depends on how well the women travel, I suppose, and the obstacles we find in our way. Country isn't safe out there, that's for damn sure." Cain sighed, zipping his rucksack closed. It lay on the bed, reminding him of his morning departure. "But honestly, I doubt DG will let me leave Finaqua without staying a few extra days. So I'll probably hang around, making sure the new household guard is settled in the palace, knows the grounds, any local hazards."

Jeb laughed. "Local hazards? Bears? Or another Witch? Maybe they come in pairs."

"Hopefully there isn't anything as serious as that," Cain muttered. Words like that made him want to look over his shoulder, to know that there was nothing there. The unknown dangers of the O.Z. were beginning to unsettle him. Though he'd known the land all his life, the Darkness released along with the Witch had allowed some strange, terrifying creatures to take root in the wilderness.

"Well, her Majesty certainly chose capable men. Colonel Knowlton, however," Jeb paused there, and his work-face cracked into a smile. A big smile. "Knowlton is pissed. Passed over for a Tin Man."

"Look, I'd gladly let Knowlton go if I had a choice." Cain looked unimpressed with his situation; Jeb noted with satisfaction, however, that he'd still packed his bag, and had his gear ready to go for early morning.

"A trip to the lake and a walk through the woods," Cain said with a sigh, and rubbed his eyes. He moved the rucksack off the bed, and sat down hard.

"Well, don't let DG keep you too long," Jeb said, getting up from his chair. He turned to leave. "We've got _jobs_ to do now, this country isn't going to rebuild itself. You know, no one in the Resistance ever talked about how much work this was going to be once we had won."

 

 

They'd left the vet and his truck behind, and traveled south through the woods. Down the same road Cain had brought DG down once before, straight to Finaqua. When the night became too dark for them to ride, they climbed down, stretched their legs, then walked their horses the remaining spans to the edge of the hedge maze. There were lanterns in their gear, but Cain didn't want to light them. The moon soon rose high, cut through the trees for them to see their path, and for them it was enough.

At the entrance to the maze, two of the palace attendants waited with lanterns. One was an older woman, the second a young man. It was the woman who spoke. "Captain, I am Bella, head of her Majesty's household staff. We are here to lead you and your party through the maze."

"We can't take our horses through there. We'll have to go around the maze."

"If you please, Captain, the Queen has requested you follow me through the maze. Leave your horse with Beaudon, he'll lead your men around the maze to the stables," she said. She gestured, and the young man moved forward. Cain dismounted, told his men to wait for him at the stables. He followed the woman into the maze.

"The Queen will receive you in her audience chamber," Bella's voice said ahead of him. She walked briskly, and after a moment he noticed she navigated the maze muttering to herself. He set his jaw, following her quiet "Left, left, right", the glow of her lantern a beacon.

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

"Watch this."

DG felt it, like a tingle in her fingertips. She closed her eyes. The book in the library, titled _Awakenings,_ had spoken of summonings. She decided, impulsively, that now would be the perfect time for her first practical application. She concentrated, not on the channel of Light, but instead on the men's voices, the sound of horses approaching. It grew louder, and she devoted thought and breath to her goal, her image in her mind. _Light._

Ambrose's eyes widened as a ball of light unfolded in DG's palm. It grew larger, until it was the size of her fist. DG's eyes were still closed; the light rolled off her palm, bounced on the ground, then became buoyant and steady. It waited.

"DG," Ambrose said. She opened her eyes; they widened as his had. He smiled as she smiled, at the way she was amazed her magic had actually worked. She laughed out loud.

"Light the way to the stable, please," she requested of the light. It dipped and bobbed, perhaps bowing to its master or perhaps just excited. The bundle of light whisked away at a lazy pace, like a will-o-the-wisp. DG laughed again, threaded her arm through Ambrose's, and headed along the lake after the light.

The light dissipated as the lanterns of the stable came into view. The stable hands moved in and out of the building, watering the horses that the group of soldiers had brought with them. The men, five of them, had dropped their packs by the fence and stood around uncomfortably.

"I don't see Cain," Ambrose said.

DG approached stubbornly. When the men saw her, they fumbled. Off came their hats, and they bowed their heads, muttering quiet "Princess" and "your Highness" to her. She wanted to wave them off, but instead, as her mother had taught her, she nodded her head, acknowledged, then moved on.

"Gentlemen, Captain Cain isn't with you?"

One stepped forward. The tag sown to his tunic read Cpl. Hass. "No, your Highness. He was escorted through the maze by your mother's attendant. You must have missed him? It took us forty-five minutes to walk around the maze."

"It's ten minutes to go through the maze," Ambrose offered DG, though he needn't have. DG had been through the maze enough times herself to know.

DG shook her head, gave her foot a dramatic little stomp. "Damn, foiled again."

The men chuckled. Ambrose noticed them relax a little around the princess. He thought he might suggest to the Queen the idea of putting DG into a position in relations, perhaps an ambassadorship, once Azkadellia became queen.

"Would you like to come back to the house with us?" DG asked, turning and pointing in the direction of lights clustered in the distance. Referring to the palace as 'the house' was one of the many ways DG coped daily with the transition of a bedroom in the eaves to a massive three-room suite.

"The captain ordered us to wait here," Hass said, nodding in apology.

DG laughed. "To hell with that. I order you to escort me up to the house. Let us deal with Wyatt Cain."


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

The lamps in her Majesty's audience chamber were lit, but the light was dim, filtered with dust. Some larger pieces of furniture were pushed against the walls, covered in gray drop cloths. The Queen stood behind a desk at the far end, set in front of a large window overlooking the lake. The desk was uncovered, and its top was bare.

"Your Majesty," Cain said after Bella had announced him. He removed his hat, bowed his head. When he glanced at her, her face was quite still, her lips set.

"Captain Cain," she said, sounding exhausted. "It is a pleasure to see you. We have much to discuss before our departure tomorrow. I need some assurances from you."

"There's no need to worry," Cain said. The Queen had to admit, he sounded convincing. Secure in his abilities and those of the men he led.

"It is time I told you what you need to know to protect my daughter and I," she began. She spoke for ten minutes, pacing behind her desk. Her usual composure was not enough to mask her worry. One end of the massive desk to the other, back and forth. Cain watched her, listened. He nodded when required to, but he did not interrupt the Queen. In her nervousness, she reminded Cain of DG.

"Have I made this perfectly clear, Captain?" The Queen's lavender gaze bore into him, begging for promise.

Cain shook his head, knowing he was hearing properly and wishing he understood better. "You should've chosen more men."

"No, Captain. We need this done quickly, and quietly. The Eclipse is over, they defied the Prophecy. Once the Emerald is returned, I can rest. Our country can move forward."

 

 

The men refused to set foot inside the palace. Hass stepped forward, spoke for his collective. "We escorted you to the palace, your Highness. We will return to the stables and wait for the Captain. Your man, Beaudon, has already shown us where we'll camp for the night."

DG turned to Ambrose. "They won't stay in the house? There are forty rooms in there!"

Ambrose shook her head. "Captain Cain requested the trouble not be taken."

She rolled her eyes. A voice rumbled behind her, in the arched doorway of the palace, left wide open. "Shouldn't you be in bed, kid?"

DG turned to see Cain coming across the entry way, headed for the group that had amassed at the front door. It was a mere four steps to throw herself into his arms. He caught her, hugged her tight. She looked and felt different, and after a moment, he let her go. "Still fighting the dresses?"

"Hey, I was wearing a dress earlier," she said. Ambrose nodded pointedly at Cain.

"That she was. And at least she's not in denim." He pointed to the hem of her slacks, delicately embroidered with gold thread. DG held her ankle out for Cain to get a better look.

"See? Pretty pants." She was grinning.

"Ambrose, did you mention to her that she does not have any authority over these men?" Cain asked, nodding at his soldiers standing in the grass. They were at attention again, watching Cain and waiting for their orders.

"It might have slipped my mind to tell her that. She's just so proud of herself when she plays princess, I didn't want to interrupt her fun," Ambrose said. His arms were crossed over his chest.

"Men, back to the stables. Pitch your tents, get some sleep. I'll be there soon," Cain commanded. They nodded, two muttering "Sir!" Turning, they left, melting into the darkness beyond the light cast from the palace.

"Kinda bossy, aren't you, Cain?" DG asked him with a smile.

He shrugged. "Comes with the job, I guess."

Ambrose cleared his throat. "If you'll both excuse me, there are a few last minute details for tomorrow's departure I need to look over before I turn in." He nodded at his friends. "I'll see you tomorrow, Captain. Princess," he said, bowing his head at her. DG scowled at his back as he walked away. They heard his footsteps echoing down the corridor long after he'd turned out of sight.

"I hate it when he does that," she said. "Usually he forgets, but then every so often, he'll sneak up and bam! Hits me right in the face with his respect and deference." She cocked her head, glared up at him. "So how come it took you so long to come down here to see me?"

The corner of Cain's mouth turned up a little crookedly, as close to a smile as he ever got. "I've had business to take care of in Central City, on your mother's orders. And you know that," he said. "I managed to get a couple days leave after everything is said and done." She knew of what he spoke, and she nodded. Secrets, she hated them. But her mother's mission would only take a few days, and the end of that marked something significant.

"So you're going to stay and visit with your princess?" she teased. He nodded. "Sit in the sun with me all day long, doing nothing?" Again, he nodded, cracked his half smile a little wider.

DG was watching him. "What?" he asked. The smile was gone.

"I don't know. Missed you," she said, with a shrug.

"I could tell. Three letters in four weeks." But it pleased him, a little, to know that she'd missed him. "I'm sorry to leave you standing here, kiddo. I've got to get back to my men, get some sleep. You too. It's near one o'clock."

DG nodded slowly. "No one in this house sleeps. Well... my father. My father sleeps."

Cain watched her, a little confused. "You okay?"

She nodded again, breathing out slowly. "Yeah," she said. "I'll be down to see my mother and sister off in the morning. And to say goodbye to anyone else who might be there, I guess."

She hugged him again, thin arms wrapping around his shoulders, clad in rough military uniform. He smelled of the road, of the forest beyond the maze. She held on tightly, too long. Cain, though still uncomfortable with her constant need for displays of affection, didn't let go until she pulled away.

"Enjoy your tent, Mr. Cain," she said, watching him over her shoulder as she headed in the same direction as Ambrose had. Her soft slippers shuffled softly, and he lost the sound of her after she was gone from sight. He shook his head, hoping to give it a bit of a clear, but nothing happened. Sighing deeply, a sound almost resembling a growl low in his throat, he turned and walked out of the palace, closing the huge double doors behind him. He wondered briefly why there was no front hall attendant, someone guarding the doors, but his thought was quelled when he heard the clicks of several locks engaging before his foot hit the first step.

"Goodnight, Princess," he muttered to himself, walking quickly into the darkness towards the stable, his sleeping roll, and a few solid hours of sleep.

 

 

Ambrose was surprised to come across the Queen in the finished parlour, when he went to retrieve his books and papers. His private office wasn't yet ready, and he was using the desk here out of necessity. When he entered the room to find her Majesty at the window, he was startled.

"Ambrose," she said with a smile. "Is no one sleeping?"

He bowed his head. "The Prince Consort rests. Perhaps the Princess Azkadellia, and most of the staff, Majesty."

"Azkadellia will need rest for tomorrow," she said with a nod. She moved away from the window, towards the sofa. Ambrose watched as she set herself down gracefully; even in her state of agitation, she was lovely. "And what of DG? Does she sleep now? I've found myself busy all evening, I haven't yet had a chance..." She trailed off. She was sure Ambrose knew of her night wanderings, but admitting she watched her daughters sleep seemed too trivial in light of what was to come.

"DG is in her room now, yes." Ambrose closed the door of the parlour behind him, once again set to what he'd come for. "She waited up for the captain's arrival. She met with him in the foyer; he's since gone to his camp and the princess is gone to bed."

"You will watch over her while we are gone, won't you Ambrose?" she asked him. Her words were quiet; in the normal bustle of the palace, perhaps in the middle of the afternoon, he might not have heard her.

"Of course, your Majesty." Ambrose nodded, and then laughed. The Queen looked at him quizzically. "Well, honestly, if it's all right for me to say, I have had a hard time _not_ watching the princess. After following her all over the O.Z., well... it's hard to break old habits. Especially new old habits."

"Thank you, Ambrose."

 

 

Cain returned to find the men's sleeping rolls placed under a huge tree near the stables. Instead of bothering with their tents, they had decided to camp out under the stars. Cain decided to do the same, and unrolled his sleeping bag on the ground. He rolled his service jacket up to stuff under his head, and laid himself down. He angled his hat to cover his face, and closed his eyes.

In the morning, he would have to awaken the men earlier than anticipated. Brief them on everything the Queen had told him. He wondered if they would even believe him.

 _She should have chosen more men_.

To put off their departure for a day, he could have double the soldiers ready to escort the Queen and the Princess Azkadellia northwest over the mountains, to the resting place of the Gale dynasty. He'd even suggested to her as much.

"No, Captain. We must leave tomorrow at first sunrise without delay."

"All due respect, your Majesty..." he said, then paused. Breathed deep. Took his hat off, twirled the brim in his hands. "Leaving without the proper protection seems a bit foolish to me."

The Queen, instead of being taken aback, only nodded her head. "I understand your concern, Captain. But I trust that we are following the right course." She smiled at him. "This journey is being undertaken with the utmost secrecy. With the Emerald protected by the Grey Gale once again, Azkadellia can begin on her path to redemption."

"Your Majesty," Cain began. But she held up a white, shaking hand to silence him.

"Captain, listen to me. My dear friend Ambrose has informed me, quite at length, of your part in the demise of the Witch and the restoration of my family," she said. "Azkadellia's faith in her safety rests with you, and rightly so. If we move quickly and complete our tasks, I do not think harm should befall us."

The sound of the horses in the stable brought Cain out of his fresh memory.

_Only six men._

Growling in his throat again, he shifted on the hard ground. Only four hours of sleep if he was lucky, but it was going to be a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

DG lay restlessly in her bed. Why, why did this have to be the Palace of Unrest? Such a beautiful, magical place. She had her window open; though she couldn't feel the breeze from across the room, she could hear it rustling the marsh grass outside, could see it playing in the curtains.

She thought of her mother and her sister, and of their journey into the northwest. What would she do without them while they were gone? Walk the lake with Raw, listen to Glitch stumble through sounding like he knew what he was talking about? Sit in the sun room with her father, his favorite place? Very princess-like things to do.

She knew there were lessons planned. Tutor would not relent. "You do not let the Light flow easily, DG," he had told her in his deep voice. His sad eyes bore into her; he was disappointed. "The Witch is dead, your mother restored, but your work is not done. Not until you can learn to hold and channel your Light without the slightest effort."

 _Az goes to return the Emerald to its resting place, return it to its Guardian,_ DG thought. _A quest into the wilderness, just like mine. Though, less of an adventure. A royal duty, maybe, but no adventure._

No, she wasn't the slightest bit sore at being left behind. She snuggled her head deeper into her pillows, seeking rest.

After the eclipse, she'd been glad the adventure was over. With the Resistance forces taking over the Longcoats, with word spreading like wildfire across the plains of the O.Z., the Royal Family had been moved to the safety of Central City. The Witch's Tower, an enemy fortress, was far from secure, witchless or not.

Longcoat transport trucks had been... _acquired_ by some of Jeb's men. Three followed in succession on the road to Central City. DG had found herself being ushered into the backseat of a truck, Cain beside her and Tutor in the front with the driver. The huge, tired old man tried to keep up conversation, but fell into a kind of trance, silent and relieved it was over. Finally, over.

DG had also tried to keep up conversation. "They scattered like bugs," she'd said with a yawn. Cain had wondered if she were talking about the Longcoats, or if she was already half asleep.

"We'll get them rounded up. Your mother ordered them locked in Azkadellia's dungeons."

"Lock them up in their own prison? That sounds like justice to me. Irony, even." She could still recall the smell of the place, of rust and decay.

Then, she was quiet too, for a long time. Cain watched her, as he watched the taillights of the truck ahead of them in the darkness, as he watched the headlights of the truck following them. Constantly aware, he wondered when he'd feel his own sense of exhaustion. But he was still agitated from having the bullet removed from his shoulder. Raw's soothing magic could only do so much; it could not extract metal from his body. One of Jeb's camp surgeons had removed the bullet. Cain had weathered it, but it left him shaky. Coming out wasn't as bad as going in, but still hurt like hell.

DG shifted against her window. Moving her shoulders, twisting her body.

"What are you doing?"

She shot him a glare. "I can't sleep sitting up."

"Lie down, then."

She looked at him skeptically. He was a little amazed at that. Without trying, without even doing anything, he'd pissed her off. Storming the Tower, she'd had the bravery of a Resistance fighter. But now, the danger passed and her body slowing down, she was a little girl, cranky without sleep.

Cain sighed. "Here," he said. His duster was laying in his lap; he rolled it up and handed it to her. "Put that under the window, lay your head on it." He hooked his hands around her knees, and pulled her legs onto his lap. DG groaned in protest, but she did as instructed, sliding her bottom further down the bench seat. "There, comfortable?"

DG nodded sleepily. When he moved his hands away from her legs, she thought she could still feel them there. "Thanks, Tin Man."

"You're welcome, Princess."

The truck continued on in the darkness. DG's legs shook with her effort to relax. But soon, she stilled, and slept. Cain leaned his head back against the window, his body turned at an angle towards hers, her legs across his lap and her stockinged feet tucked beside him. Her sneakers lay on the floor.

Tutor had turned around in his seat by then. His dark gaze caught Cain's. Cain looked away first, his eyes casting out the windscreen once again to find the taillights ahead, then the headlights behind.

 

 

Cain woke uneasily. He could hear the first of the stable hands swishing through the marsh grass, back to work for another day. Lifting his hat off his face, Cain sat up and looked around. It was still dark, though a faint greyness had begun to appear on the horizon, and the stars had begun to fade.

"Rise and shine, boys," he grumbled. A stable worker meant it was near five in the morning.  He wanted to be mounted and on the other side of the maze by six thirty. He and his men were to meet the Queen and the Princess Az at the front entrance of the palace within an hour.

There was no groaning or protest from his men. In minutes they were all on their feet, rolling up their sleeping bags, checking their gear. One of the men, McLauren, sat on a rock, smoking a cigarette. Shaking his head, Cain walked over.

"Just enjoying a last one," McLauren said. "I ain't gonna smoke around the Queen or the Sorc-" The young man caught himself, shook his head sheepishly. "I mean, her Highness Azkadellia."

At this, Cain glanced from man to man. Most looked nervous. Private Goodwin looked angry, zippering his pack closed almost forcefully. Cain wondered how many of them had imagined strangling Az with their own bare hands over the last fifteen annuals.

He shook the morbid thought off. She was once again a princess, heiress to the throne of the O.Z., and she needed their help. "All right, over here," he said. The men dropped what they were doing to gather around him. At first, he wasn't sure where to begin. He shrugged on his service jacket, prolonging the inevitable moment.

"You know this isn't your regular royal escort," Cain began. The men watched him, waiting. The captain continued, explained everything he said had been told to him the night before, the reason the Queen had requested an audience. "We move them as fast as possible without pushing them. Hell, maybe it would be better if we did push them, but you leave it to me to set our pace. Hass, I want you scouting ahead."

Hass nodded his head. He'd listened intently to the new situation, hoping to hell that the plan wasn't going to change. The captain hadn't indicated as much. "Why didn't she order more men, if it would be so dangerous, Captain?" he asked.

Cain shook his head, grimaced. "I wracked my brain over that all night. Says she wants this done quick and dirty. So that's how we do it."

The men broke apart as a group of palace servants arrived, carrying trays of food. Cain watched them as they approached. "What's this?"

"Captain, her Majesty has requested you come to the palace as soon as you have eaten."

Cain eyed the trays of hot, filling food. Bread, porridge, coffee. He nodded at his men. "We eat, and then we go."

 

 

DG awoke with a start. Someone was knocking at her door; it was still dark. Had she been dreaming? The last thing she remembered was thoughts of Cain, of their ride from the Tower after the eclipse.

The knocking continued. "Come in," DG said with a yawn, practically rolling out of the bed onto the floor. As she straightened, her lady's maid, Esther, poked her head into the room.

"Your mother and sister depart this morning," Esther said. Her face was bright, a 'good morning' type of smile. How could anyone be so chipper on a day like today? A thought entered her mind, through the tiny back door with a nameplate of _Guilt_ on it.

_After the downfall of the Witch, wouldn't you be happy too, DG? You didn't suffer famine, the almost destruction of the O.Z. You merely swooped in, last half of the last act, to save the day. Little princess, resurrected._

Esther looked inquiringly at her mistress. "Will you take your breakfast now?"

DG shook her head. "No, I'll go see Az. Thank you, Esther."

She left the room in her nightdress and bare feet. At five-thirty in the morning, who would see her? Even if someone did, at least her gown was princess-y, a long Miss-Elaine-type affair, which reminded DG of Wendy Darling.

She and her sister had rooms down a shared passageway, rooms overlooking the lake. Az's room was at the end of the hall, with a double view, to help soothe her. DG knocked on the door, and after she thought she heard a muttered affirmation from her sister, she entered.

Azkadellia was already dressed in her riding clothes. Her twill riding skirt was split up the front to reveal boots and trousers underneath. It was the first time she'd seen her sister in pants, and she was impressed, but it diminished next to the practicality of it. Both Azkadellia and her mother would ride astride, they needed to move as fast as possible.

"You're still in your nightgown?" Azkadellia asked. Then she shook her head. "I want to go back to bed. Forever."

DG laughed. "No, it's your turn to go traipsing through the woods with no bathroom."

Az grimaced. She sat down carefully at the table near the window, where her breakfast lay untouched on its tray. Beside the tray was a plain wooden box, with a simple metal latch. "It's almost time to get rid of it. Then I think I can start to breathe."

DG knew in the box lay the Emerald. Azkadellia held her hand over the box; from underneath the lid shone out white light. DG watched until the light grew to blinding. Her eyes blinked closed on their own, and when she opened them, only the small latch glowed faintly. Locked by magic.

DG noticed her sister watching the box uneasily. "Everything will be okay, Az," DG said. She sat across from her sister, reached out her bare foot to push Az's booted one. "I met your escort last night, they look pretty tough." Azkadellia nodded. "And," DG continued. "Cain will be with you, so you'll barely spend any time resting." Az only nodded a second time. DG looked away, searching her brain. After a month of silence from her sister, her renewed speech had put hope back on the table. DG didn't want to lose it.

"Az, why did you request Cain? Over one of the generals?"

Azkadellia sighed. She reached up, touched her hair, piled high on her head, twisted securely for the day's long ride. "I thought it would be obvious, little sister," she said after a moment. She got up and walked to her dresser, her boots clicking on the floor. "Back at the Tower, Wyatt Cain became a thorn in my side... the Witch's side, I guess," Az said with a shrug. "You escaped from the theater in Central City, escaped from the Tower prison." She went to the window, looked out. The sky was lightening fast, turning faint orange over the mountains. "That man made it through every obstacle the Witch's army set before him. And now... I could only think of one person I would want on my side though this..."

 

 

On the other side of the palace, the Queen pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair, her hands steady. Ahamo watched his wife's calm composure.

"Four days' journey," he reassured her. "Three if the weather cooperates."

The Queen laughed shortly, under her breath. "Why should the weather cooperate? Why should anything go right?"

"Now, don't think like that," he told her, his tones soft and hushed. He soothed her as he had soothed his daughters so long ago, before the Witch, before everything had changed. Ahamo took his wife into his arms, tugged her hood down again so he might feel her skin when she tucked her head into his shoulder.

"Oh, my darling," she sighed. "I look forward to our return journey. When I might be back here, in your arms." Ahamo tightened his grip on her. "I fear perhaps Azkadellia is braver than I."

"You are both strong women. I think the soldiers may have a hard time keeping up with you," he said with a laugh.

Before his wife could reply, there was a knock at the door. The couple broke apart. A young servant girl entered, curtsied, did not make eye contact with either of her rulers. "Captain Cain's party has left the stables, your Majesty, and are headed toward the palace. The Princess Azkadellia awaits in the foyer."

The Queen nodded. After replacing her hood, she took her husband's proffered arm.

_Gods give us strength and Light guide our steps._

 

 

Wyatt Cain stood in the grand entryway, his hands behind his back. As the suns rose over the mountains, filling the gigantic room with pale morning light, he watched as seconds of precious daylight ticked away. Ambrose was sitting on a settee book-ended by ferns in large clay pots. Even though his friend's knee was bouncing, his eyelids looked incredibly heavy.

Suddenly, Ambrose clambered to his feet, ungracefully landing with a little hop. Cain followed his gaze to see Az and DG descending the stairs. Az came first, DG followed behind wearing a long white nightdress. A blue dressing gown covered her shoulders, but she'd left it wide open. Cain smirked to see her feet were bare.

"Captain Cain," Azkadellia said, extending her hands as she reached the bottom of the staircase. Cain bowed his head, before taking her hands in his own.

"Your Highness," he said softly, mindful of her fragile state. She watched his eyes for a moment, then pulled her hands away. She turned to Ambrose.

"Ambrose, would you please help me mount my horse?"

Glitch raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, of course, Princess." He offered her his arm, but she did not take it. Instead, she walked out of the front door, where an attendant waited in the grass with her mount. Ambrose followed, not at all put off by her coolness. Cain watched the two of them leave the foyer. Azkadellia walked steadily forward, but when Ambrose helped her onto the mounting block, she looked at him with kindness, in the dimness Cain could almost have seen her mouth the words, _"Thank you"._

He turned away when DG moved to his side.

"One minute you're giving a kid directions, the next you're a slave to the royal family for the rest of your life," she said teasingly. He looked at her, stone-faced. DG put her hand on his arm, tried to see if she could soften his resolve. "Is this your work face?"

He coughed to suppress a crooked smile. "Somethin' like that."

There was silence between them. From above, DG could hear the sounds of her parents coming towards the front entrance. It crossed her mind that her mother might not approve of her standing in the front hall in her night clothes. In a quick decision, she buttoned the front of her robe. Cain seemed to have read her mind, for he smoothed a few stray locks of her bedhead behind her ear.

"So I'll see you when you come back," DG said quietly. Her heart was pounding. Why? Because he had touched her hair?

Cain nodded, stepping back. The Queen and Prince Consort appeared at the top of the stairs, and came down quickly.

"My men are ready to leave, your Majesty," Cain said. DG glanced at him, surprised at the new level of seriousness in him. Certainly this was on-the-job Cain. She knew then she'd get no hug goodbye.

The Queen nodded. She turned to her daughter, embraced her. She seemed not to notice Azkadellia's robe on DG's shoulders, hastily buttoned. "My angel," she whispered in her daughter's ear. "Do not give your poor tutor too much trouble."

DG laughed, thinking this an odd request. "Yes, Mother. I'll see you soon."

The Queen nodded. "Captain, we will be ready to leave shortly." She allowed Ahamo to lead her out the front doors, her white mare waiting, ready to be mounted. Both Cain and DG watched after her parents before he turned back to her. He put his hat on his head, adjusted it.

"I'll see you in a few days," he said. He watched her. How could her blue eyes seem so wide? She looked so vulnerable, but he knew that she was far from it. She was nodding at him, but her mouth was caught in a frown. "And don't look so miserable." His eyes were on her mouth.

DG closed her eyes, pursed her lips, chewed them from the inside. She felt his hand on her shoulder, but when she opened her eyes again, he'd turned and was walking out of the doors. From the dim light of the foyer, she watched him mount his horse from the ground, call out an order to his men. Ahamo watched from the steps as his wife and daughter rode away, in the company and under the protection of armed soldiers.

Ambrose came to join DG in the ever lightening entryway. He'd caught the way DG had stared at Cain's back as he walked away without turning around. Watched now as her mouth stood slightly ajar as she watched the figures shrinking into the distance towards the maze.

"It's too early to look at someone like that," he said as he stopped beside her. When she looked at him, he was watching her with a smug, knowing look, which quickly turned into a full, Glitchy grin. He gestured his chin towards the stairs. "You should go back to bed."


	6. Chapter 6

 

_She was falling. Sliding, down, down. Her fingers clawed at the walls of the tunnel, but there was nothing to grab. She bumped and rolled. Screaming, screaming. The friction of dirt and rocks burned her skin as she slid, down, down. And then out of nowhere, the floor leveled and again she rolled. Her body connected with a table, sending the contents flying. Metal objects struck the walls of the underground room, yelping their echoes._

_It was dark. Someone was shouting. She managed to get herself to her hands and knees when a light flared, and she was being hauled to her feet. The shouts came from behind her, beside her. Right in her ear. Strong hands gripped her arms. Rough hands, it felt like the scraping of the tunnel on her back, that touch on her arms._

_Half carried, half dragged, lights passed above her head. Taken down one passageway and then the next, she was without direction. Lost. She tried to gain her footing, to use her own feet to walk wherever they were taking her, but their pace was too quick, her legs sore from jarring against the floor coming out of the tunnel. She couldn't speak, her throat was full of dust._

_A sudden stop at a door. It was opened before her, and she was thrown to the floor. Before her was a desk. Again, she got to her hands and knees. Then her feet. She struggled to stand straight. The light was bright, sharpening her senses. Terror filled her; where had she fallen?_

_A huge man stood behind the desk, watching her. She stared into his stark black eyes; her fear made her willful. She tried to remember before the tunnel, but all she could remember was the never-ending forest, and then the ground falling out from underneath her feet._

" _And who is this?" he asked. She wondered if he meant her to speak. He put something down on the desk, slowly walked around to where she stood. Her gaze faltered as he approached, the intensity of his black eyes only heightened her fear. A glimmer caught her eye. What he had placed on the desk, a small emerald which seemed to glow from within._

_The man towered over her, her eyes met his chest. He grabbed her chin, forced her eyes upward. His hands were rough, the same as the hands from before. Cold, course, like the surface of a stone._

" _I said, who is this?"_

_She set her jaw. "My name is Dorothy."_

 

DG's eyes burst open, she sharply inhaled. The suns' light bore into her room, invasive. She pushed herself up on her arms, sat up. "What the hell was that?" She rubbed her eyes furiously.

Ahamo was ambling down the hall at a slow pace. In one hand he carried a cup of coffee, half finished; in the other, he held a stack of papers, the top of which he read as he walked. He didn't see his daughter rush out of her room. It was the pounding of her footsteps and the breeze she created as she ran by him that caught his attention.

"DG?" he called after her, but she didn't stop. He turned, followed her. As he came down the stairs, he saw a maid hurry out of the finished parlour. She glanced behind her, almost worriedly, as she walked across the hall. Ahamo stuck his head into the parlour.

DG was running her fingers over the massive bookshelf that took up most of the east wall. She tapped the books impatiently, muttering to herself.

"Looking for something?" he asked her. DG turned to him, noticing him for the first time. She smiled, and nodded, then went back to her diligent search. Ahamo stepped fully into the room, put his papers down on a side table. "You slept quite a while. Tutor wants to continue your lessons this afternoon in the library, since you slept through your morning one." He was smiling, though she didn't turn to him to see.

"What time is it?" she asked him absently.

"Nearly eleven o'clock."

She stopped on a book, tapped the spine three times before pulling it out. She opened the cover, scanned the title page. Nodded. She proceeded to pull out the next book, and the next, piling them one on top of the other until she had five.

Ahamo watched her in amazement. "Planning on doing some reading while your mother is away?"

DG turned to him again, and nodded. "The Gale dynasty. I'm a little interested, you know, since that's where Mother and Az are going." She laughed; a little nervously, it sounded to his ears.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "Um, I think I will go put these in my room, and then I'll go find Tutor."

DG left her father standing in the parlor, hurried across the hall and up the stairs. She was a little out of breath by the time she dumped the books onto her bed, but her heart and breathing stopped racing by the time she'd brushed out her hair, put on a fresh dress. It was simple, light, a soft blue color. She really didn't mind the dresses that weren't constricting, that didn't require a corset underneath. The hem fell to her knees, the fabric whispering against her legs.

The dream was on her mind as she left her room to find her magic teacher. She'd dreamed falling down that tunnel, felt the impact of the hard floor when she landed. Her arms had been grabbed... it had been herself, DG, in that dream, hadn't it? But the name and voice that escaped her lips... "My name is Dorothy." It repeated over and over in her head. A young girl's voice, not her own... but one she had heard before.

 

 

* * *

_\- The Northwestern Road -_

* * *

At midday, Cain ordered them to stop. They were far from the main road, the one Cain and his men had traveled the day before. He helped the Queen down from her horse, and then did the same for Azkadellia. Pvt. McLauren appeared to take the reins of both beasts, to lead them down through the trees to where a swift current ran along muddy banks.

In her hands, the princess carried a small wooden box. Cain had watched her remove it from the saddle bag before McLauren had led her mount away. He said nothing, knowing full well what was in the small chest she held onto so tightly. The tiny little gem that had been the source of so much misery for the people of the O.Z. She had killed hundreds to get it, thousands of lives destroyed, whole towns burned to the ground.

_And now we return it, pretend like it never happened._

He smirked, shook his head, a little disbelieving his own mind had come up with those words.

Cain turned when the Queen approached him. "How is our progress, Captain?" she asked. To his relief, she was smiling.

"I'd like to pick up the pace. The closer we get to the mountains today, the earlier we get there tomorrow. And that means the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave."

The Queen nodded her agreement. "I think moving faster would be the best idea," she said. With the wind that blew through the trees around them, he had to strain his ears to catch her breathy sighs of speech, even as close to her as he was.

There wasn't much to be had for lunch, and they drank from their canteens instead of the muddy stream. Cain had no doubt they would find a lake to camp by for the night. But he wanted to press on. Six hours into their journey, he had seen no signs of trouble. No disturbances in the countryside. But Wyatt Cain refused, as he always refused, to let his guard down.

"You keep your eyes peeled," he told McLauren and Burrows. Both of the young men were assigned to ride behind the two women. "There are no people out this way at all. We'll be able to see if anyone has made camp, disturbed the brush." Hass, whom Cain sent to scout ahead, said he found no tracks, nor signs of movement.

"This road has not been used for a long time, Captain," he'd said when he reported to Cain during their break from riding.

Cain looked behind them at the road winding off into the trees, road already traveled. He wondered if indeed they were in danger, if their enemies would even use the road. _You're getting paranoid_ , he told himself. But still... he unbuttoned his holster.

"All right, let's mount up and get a move on," he called to his group. He watched Azkadellia approach her horse, place the wooden box carefully back into the saddle bag. She looked around and caught him watching her. She straightened her spine, returned his gaze defiantly; with her jaw set and her dark eyes blazing, she still looked authoritative, regal. Almost frightening. He bowed his head and looked away. He didn't mount his own horse until Abbott, the tallest of the six men, had helped both women into their saddles.

Cain watched Hass ride ahead. Cain rode beside the princess, not a word spoken by the entire party as hooves pounded against the packed dirt road. Azkadellia stared straight ahead, spurred her horse to keep up with Cain's. She did not look at the escort she had requested personally, the man she had said was the only one she'd have felt safe with. Now, in the forest, watching left and right for signs of ambush, Cain could understand her motives.

She was too quiet, too cold in her stony silence. Cain felt a sudden longing for DG. Even in darkness and danger, the right company could make the journey a little easier.

"Captain!"

Hass was riding back. Cain urged his horse faster, left the women and their company behind.

"What is it?"

"A gully. About ten meters across."

"Full of water?"

Hass shook his head. "No, Captain. There is an old bridge, but I think it would be best if we all walked our horses across."

Cain sighed. Small, time-consuming obstacles. His eyes scanned the trees, down the road and around a bend, the direction from which Hass had come. Less than five minutes down the road, the ditch cut across the landscape, dead leaves and fallen trees littering the bottom. If a stream had run through there, it had dried up a long time. The bridge Hass had spoken of was made of logs, bound together and secured in the ground.

Cain helped Az off her horse so Abbott could walk it across. When Cain offered her a hand to help her across the bridge, she looked at his outstretched palm and then at his face.

"I am perfectly capable, Captain. Thank you," she said, not unkindly. Cain nodded and retracted his hand. He followed behind her across the little bridge.

"Is there any sign of Longcoats yet, Captain?" she asked him on the other side as they waited for her mother to cross, followed closely by the two remaining soldiers.

Cain shook his head. "Out this far, I doubt we'd have any worry of Longcoats, Princess."

Azkadellia turned her head to look up at him. His eyes were ridiculously blue, like her sister's. But while DG's eyes were vast and quiet, Cain's were cool, alert. "Captain, Ambrose had advised me that the Army of Resistance only holds under four hundred Longcoats in prison."

Cain nodded his head. "The sounds about right, though I'm not sure of the exact numbers," he said.

"Mr. Cain, the Witch's Longcoat army numbered in the thousands. Over twenty six hundred soldiers."

Cain had had this conversation before with his son. Jeb and his infiltration group tracked Longcoats hidden in Central City, perhaps even as they spoke. The Queen's military advisers hounded her day and night to launch an offensive against the remaining Longcoat army, but continually she desisted. "My people have had enough of war," was her only reply.

Now, he held out an arm for Az to steady herself on as she hooked her boot into her stirrup from the ground, held her waist as she swung herself up by the pommel. He nodded his head at her as she looked down at him from her mount. He turned, seeking out his own horse.

Azkadellia unsettled him. Put him on edge. He mounted his horse, motioned for the others to follow. Their quick canter soon negated the option of conversation. He watched Az out of the corner of his eye; she stared straight ahead. Perhaps she was scared. The Longcoats presented a very small problem next to this new, veiled threat. An old grudge from before her days, her mother's days, her grandmother's. Cain was scanning the trees far ahead; though it was never too early to be cautious, they would meet trouble in the mountains, if they met it at all.

 

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

"Open the window."

The sash shot upwards with a bang.

"Close the doors."

The doors swung closed, evenly.

"Light a fire in the fireplace."

Then... "DG, light a fire in the fireplace."

She cracked one eye open and turned towards the mantel. Wood lay ready in the firebox, uncombusted. She glared at it, focused her concentration and her energy. Nothing happened.

Tutor chuckled. "I figured that one might stump you. Creating, DG, is vastly different from physical manipulation."

DG turned to him. "Well then, how do I create?"

"Master Ambrose told me of the light you summoned last night. Think back to what you did then, and apply it to what you're trying to do now," Tutor said. His steady, deep voice was encouraging.

DG screwed her eyes closed again. Concentrated on the image of the mantel, the wood stacked neatly in the grate. Nothing happened. _This is ridiculous!_ She focused harder, trying to imagine clearly, and then she felt it, like a crackle in her bones, in the tips of her fingers.

She opened her eyes.

Fire seemed to sprout from the very insides of the logs. Flames jumped high, expanded as if they'd been doused with gasoline. Tutor laughed. "Gods, DG! Well done!" DG smiled, looked down at her hands in amazement. She'd felt the power, right within her body. The Light, the magic was a part of her. And she'd never known before.

"Magic is strange," she said, still studying her hands intently.

"You will understand soon enough," Tutor said. "Your magic rests within you, waiting for you to but tap your own resources. The more you uncover, the easier it will become."

DG nodded as if she understood, but honestly... she still found it hard to swallow. Seeing is believing did not always apply.

"It's nearly three," Tutor said, glancing at the wall clock. They were in what would become Ambrose's study; palace workers had chased them out of the library. The banging of hammers, the movement of maids in and out of the room, had distracted DG, whose attention span for her lesson was weak at best. In Tutor's frustration, he'd moved them to a smaller room, out of the way.

DG ran from the room, less than demurely, after a hurried goodbye and thank-you to her teacher. She didn't see him shaking his head in amusement at her. The sun room had doors opening out onto the back patio, and in that direction she raced, to Raw who waited for her.

"DG should not run," Raw reprimanded calmly as she dropped into a chair beside him. He looked incredibly out of place sitting in an elaborate wrought-iron patio chair.

"Shall we walk?" DG asked him. Raw nodded. She was on her feet and hauling him to his the next second; they walked down the patio steps, around the house, towards the lake.

Raw chuckled. "DG is full of energy today."

DG nodded, and laughed. "I think I'm just a little buzzed off my magic lesson. Lit a fire! Without matches! Bet that little weirdo brother of Becky St. Clair's wishes he could do that."

"Yes, Raw felt surge of magic while he waited," he said... and stopped. DG's mood had immediately plummeted, and he knew it was because of a memory of her life left behind. It happened often, too often. She was sad, homesick. Missed her Nurturers.

"DG thinks of friend left behind?" he asked, prompting. Sometimes, she talked with a little encouragement. Other times, she held it in, reminded the Viewer of the Tin Man, the same stoic resolve to just barrel forward.

"Oh, she wasn't my friend," DG said. "Well, she was when I was little, their farm nearer to ours than others, she was the only other little girl around. But that creepy brother of hers, like a monster in a kid costume." DG sighed. "I hadn't talked to her since graduation, she moved away to college. Mom and Pop, though... encouraged me to stay home. Drive the truck to Hays twice a week for night classes." Then she laughed. Sharply. "I wonder why," she said softly, shaking her head. "I wonder _why._ "

She was angry now, bitter. Raw was confused by the constant shifting of her emotions. Little time of his life had been spent around humans before this young girl rescued him from a certain, painful death. He took her hand, trying not to outwardly wince at the tempest raging. She was _angry._

"Follow Raw," he said, sensibly, and began to pull her back towards the house. "DG need rest."

Twenty minutes later, she was alone in her room. Raw had offered to sit outside in the sitting room, but DG declined. Thanked him for his help and concern, but sent him on his way. Now she was facing the pile of books on her bed. Books about the Gale dynasty. Her anger at her past dissipated as she eyed a different kind of past. Her _real_ past.

 _Dorothy,_ she thought. _I want to know about Dorothy._

She stacked the books in order on her nightstand, and crawled on top of the bed. Sitting cross-legged and covered with a blanket, she picked up the first volume and cracked it open at the beginning. She skipped through a very long-winded introduction. Finally, a good way in, a chapter entitled ' _Mysterious Arrival_ '.

DG furrowed her brow as she read. No where did it refer to Dorothy as a 'slipper', as someone from another world. The further she read, the more confused she became.

_From out of nowhere, a strange girl appeared at the gates of the Shining City. She screamed, hysterical, begging to be released from her pain. But no one would touch her. The girl bled magic from her hands, essence which dripped on the ground and burned holes where it fell._


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_\- The Northwestern Road -_ **  
**

* * *

Night was falling fast. They had slowed their horses to a walk. Cain waited for Hass to report back that he had found a suitable place to make camp. Out in this wilderness, where no one but wild things lived, he didn't want to camp near the road. The countryside was on a gradual incline; they had reached the foothills of the great mountains to the Northwest.

Finally, Cain heard the pounding of hooves, and in the growing twilight saw Hass riding quickly towards them. Cain spurred his horse forward, away from Azkadellia's side, to meet the corporal. "What have you found?" Cain asked. With the darkness thickening, he wanted to make camp as soon as possible.

"Five minutes ride or so from here is a rock shelter. Not large enough to pitch even one tent inside, but I checked it out and it's secure. It will provide protection from the wind. You might post a guard above," Hass reported. Cain nodded.

"Lead the way," he said. "We'll follow."

He rode back to the Queen. "Your Majesty, our scout has found a spot to make camp. I'd like it if we could hurry."

The Queen nodded. She was exhausted, but tried not to show her strain to the soldiers surrounding her. "Of course, Captain Cain." She followed behind the captain, her daughter riding beside her. In the dimness, she could not see her daughter's face. She focused herself back on the ride; somehow, knowing the day of travelling was almost over, the last few minutes were almost unbearable. The pain in her back and her legs crept up, burning hotter. Almost there.

To have a fire built, the tents pitched, and the horses cared for took close to an hour. Cain had found himself grateful his royal charges travelled light. The night was black and the forest beyond the fire indiscernible. The eight companions were alone in their little island of firelight; the world outside may not have even existed.

They'd put almost eighty miles between them and Finaqua that day. A little over halfway there. They would arrive by late afternoon tomorrow, he hoped. _Hoped_. Soon they would lose the road, the cover of the woods.

"Two guards will be on watch at all times tonight," Cain explained to the Queen. "One above, and one below." He nodded towards where Pvt. Burrows sat perched atop the rock shelter, outside of which the tents had been raised. "I want to be ready to leave before first light tomorrow."

"My daughter and I will be ready to go, Captain."

Cain nodded at her. Her quiet, wispy voice made him nervous. She seemed ready to turn into a puff of smoke and blow away on the breeze. _I must be getting tired,_ he told himself. But watching this woman, he wondered where DG had come from, gotten that irrepressible, frustrating spirit.

_Maybe the Other Side makes all the difference._

He tried to imagine DG more like her mother, willowy, pale. Breathy sighs forming words instead of a strong, steady voice that thought it was always right. It was hard, but it near put a smile on his face.

He shook his head. _Just stop that right now, Wyatt._

The Queen was rising to her feet. He stood, respectfully.

"I think I will go to bed, Captain. Goodnight, gentleman." She nodded at the other men, who had jumped to their feet. Pvt. Abbott hopped forward, held the tent flap open for her, and then let it fall once again. Cain shook his head in dismay; his men fell all over themselves to help the Queen, but left Azkadellia to him. Princess-sitting; it sounded easy, but Cain knew that the phrase ' _misconception'_ didn't quite cover it. This fact alone kept him on edge, even though Az wasn't half the trouble her sister was.

Azkadellia soon went to bed as well. When Cain rose as she did, she nodded at him, but didn't smile. The corners of her mouth twitched, he noticed, and the line of her mouth stretched a little farther. He had no words of comfort for her, not in the company of these men. He helped her into the tent, said goodnight, but was only greeted with silence.

Hours later, Cain still sat feeding the fire. Hass stretched out on the ground beside him, throwing twigs into the flames. Two of their company slept, while two guarded, one sitting in the darkness just beyond the firelight.

"We saw no signs today of trouble," Hass offered.

"No, no trouble," Cain said, staring into the flames. The heat he felt was comforting; years in his tin suit had left him appreciative of so many little things. The snap and pop of logs devoured by flames was one of them, reminding him of taking Jeb fishing as a boy. Of Adora, entangled naked with him before the hearth, making love in front of the fire, before they'd had a child.

"Up in the mountains we'll have to be more vigilant," Hass continued. "There will be too many places for anyone to hide, too easy to attack."

Cain nodded, and looked at his young companion. The man couldn't have seen much service before the Tower, but he knew what he needed to know, and Cain was impressed with the young corporal's insights. But he knew now the man across from him was fishing to start a conversation, perhaps to speak his troubled mind. Cain did not deter him, but did not offer anything up.

Finally... "Do you really think they're after the princess?"

"I couldn't tell you."

"I thought they had demobilized. A long, long time ago. I thought they were forgotten."

"I've learned in the past couple of months to stop thinking of things as forgotten," was all Cain said.

"Why resurface now, after being silent for so long? And why go after Azkadellia?"

Cain held his tongue.

"And another thing," Hass said. He lowered his voice, looked around suspiciously, as if someone might come leaping out of the bushes at any moment. He looked back to Cain. "To leave the palace at Finaqua unguarded. If they are after the Princess Azkadellia, wouldn't her sister be in as much danger?"

Cain shook his head. "DG is perfectly safe."

Hass was a little curious at the captain's informal address of the princess. Just the like rest of them, Cain held himself strictly in check around these significant women. This, however, did not dissuade him from pushing forward. "You think they won't attack Finaqua, just as the Queen said they threaten us now?"

Cain looked hard into the young man's eyes, his tone ringing finality. "DG is in _no_ danger."

Hass nodded, looked around nervously once again. "I'll turn in, Captain," he said. "McLauren will wake me at five for my patrol." Cain watched the young man go to his tent, offering no goodnight. He knew he should follow suit, but the fire held him.

_Demobilized_ , Cain thought.

The country had embraced their queen, the beautiful, selfless woman with the lavender eyes. Rejoiced and raised her to her throne without remark. To be summoned to her office to find her pacing and fretful was a surprise.

Cain got up from the fire, went to his tent. His mind stayed back in the Queen's audience chamber.

" _Nothing_ must happen to Azkadellia," the Queen had said, her voice as firm as he had ever heard it. It echoed in his head now. "She knows she is in danger from the Longcoats. We _cannot_ allow her to find these insurgents target her as well. We move with the utmost secrecy and caution."

"Is hiding these facts from Azkadellia wise?"

"Captain," the Queen had said. Her lavender eyes bore into him. "My daughter is unstable. With the Emerald in her possession, it draws on her power, _feeds on her._ You will not have her magic to help you on this journey, not in any significant amount."

"I hadn't expected it. My men and I are more than capable of handling any trouble that finds us."

"With the Emerald back under its Guardian, Azkadellia's magic will be at its full strength. And we will have little to fear on the return journey."

Cain had shaken his head. His only knowledge of magic had come from watching DG, and her magic was temperamental at best. It seemed foolish to become so complacent as to rely on such frivolous means of protection. He had always held his faith in his own force of will... and his shooting arm.

The Queen's gaze then, over the empty desk, had reminded him of the Mystic Man; the promise that had been like blood from a stone. It made him uncomfortable, as sadness often did, thinking about the poor old man. He'd been green when he was first assigned to the Mystic Man. Now, weathered and tired, here he was, guarding those who could not guard themselves. Cain stared up at the canvas of the tent in the semi-darkness.

The Queen's voice swirled in his mind, louder than she seemed in life. "Azkadellia must _not_ know of the Outlanders. I cannot stress this point enough."

"You have, Majesty," Cain said, trying to be a comfort but wondering if he could be. "I will have to inform my men, however."

"Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes. They must be informed."

Cain turned restlessly from one side to another on his sleeping roll. Thoughts of DG pushed, somewhat inappropriately he thought, into his head. He covered his eyes with one hand, blocking out the dim light from the fire, still burning bright outside the tent. Abbott probably fed it now, vigilance bleeding into boredom as the night wore on.

_Sleep, Wyatt,_ he told himself. _You're going to need it._

 

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

Darkness had fallen over the palace at Finaqua. Dinner had been cleared away, and those that remained of the household adjourned to the parlour. Raw sat quietly by the window, introspective. Glitch had returned to perusing the bookshelf, trying to reawaken his knowledge. DG was pestering her father.

"It was 1972, the year I crossed over," Ahamo said. In his hand he held a glass of wine, which he was watching intently.

"You getting curious was the bottom of that glass looks like?" DG asked teasingly. He had been musing at length for quite a while, at her insistence. First about her childhood, then his time with her mother before the marriage, the children, and now he moved backwards to his time on the Other Side. A life in reverse.

"Nixon was recalling the last of the troops from Vietnam," he continued. "I was sixteen that year, too young for the draft, too young for the war. Thought flying my Pop's hot air balloon as a demonstration at the fair was a good idea." Ahamo paused, shook his head at himself, smiling. "Best idea I ever had."

DG laughed. Ahamo drained the last of his wine, began to hum a little to himself. Her heart swelled and tears entered her eyes as she recognized the tune.

_Bye, bye Miss American Pie..._

She began to sing soft words, accompanying his impromptu memory. When he stopped humming, she kept singing, until she fumbled on the words, and had to stop. Her father was beaming at her. He stood, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll go to bed, I think." DG watched him leave.

In the doorway, he stopped, and turned back to his daughter. "Did they elect Nixon for a second term?"

DG laughed. "Yeah they did. Ask me tomorrow about Nixon's 'second term', Dad. Go to bed."

Ahamo smiled at her, disappeared. She could hear him singing to himself faintly "I met a girl who sang the blues, and I asked her..." but his voice faded as the massive palace swallowed him whole. She realized that paying attention in her American History class was going to end up being rewarding. She shook her head, laughing. _And they say you never use what you learn in school._

Glitch flopped down on the sofa beside her. " _You_ ," he said, dragging it out, "were quiet at dinner."

"And you," she said, nudging him a little with her elbow so he'd move over, "went off topic during dinner at least three times."

He shrugged. "Still glitching a lot. It's hard to keep my thoughts in line. Unruly bastards."

She laughed. She noticed her second companion, her heartfelt guardian, sitting across the room, watching out the window. What could he see? It was black outside. "Raw, come sit with us."

The Viewer shook his head. "No, Raw will go to bed." He looked troubled, upset. "DG rest well," he said. He nodded at Glitch, left the room. DG watched after him, worriedly.

"He looks upset."

Glitch watched the doorway through which Raw had departed. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Lots of things could be upsetting him. There are lots of people in this palace, and lots of things going on. He might be picking up on something."

A second later, he was standing. Moving over to the desk, shuffling through a drawer. He pulled out a thick pad of paper and an expensive looking fountain pen. He sat down in the chair at the desk, his back upright. DG knew in that second that she'd lost him once again.

"I'm going to my room now," she told him. She didn't want to sit in the quiet parlour, listening to his frenetic scribbling.

He turned to her, then stood. Gave a stiff, proper bow. "Goodnight, your Highness."

She rolled her eyes at him. "G'night, Glitch."

As she walked out of the parlour, he called after her. "My name isn't Glitch!"

Walking up the stairs, she ran into two maids, who also showed her too much respect. She nodded, cocking the necessary half-smiles. Back in the sitting chamber outside her bedroom, she held the door at her back, leaned her head against the heavy wood. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Moments like this, when it was all too much, caused an almost panic. Tears threatened to fall for no reason at all.

Regaining her composure, she shook her head. "Get a hold of yourself, DG."

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw were the Gale books.

She hadn't made it very far into the first one. What she had read had disturbed her. Terrified her, when she coupled it with the dream she'd had. The dream... was it just that? Something her mind had concocted, perhaps because of her agitation after saying goodbye to her mother... to Cain?

_It was just a dream_.

No... she couldn't convince herself of that. In the O.Z., where magic was pervasive, a part of her life. Where memories were real, pliable things. Her own mother had invaded her head to warn her. Could this be the same thing?

_You can't be suspicious of every dream you have for the rest of your life, Deege._

She wanted to pick up another book, but she didn't want to read anymore. Instead, she crawled into her bed, grumbled in her head about the maids. Every morning she made her bed, habits from an old life; every night when she crawled in, she found it remade, crisp sheets tightly tucked. Military tight. She kicked her legs around under the sheets for a few moments before hugging her pillow, settling down. She willed her brain not to dream of Dorothy, to prove that it _had_ been just a dream. She sent her thoughts out wandering... and they landed on Wyatt Cain.

_Well, that's not going to help me sleep._

She tried to banish him. But once in her mind, he wouldn't leave easily. She couldn't cajole imaginary Cain as easily as the flesh and blood man. She set herself to planning the menial things they would find to do during his stay. It excited her, thinking of the five of them back together again, no stress and no worries. Maybe they would be able to laugh.

 

 

_They were slavers._

_She was thrown into a cell, small and dark and cold. She heard them outside the door, dragging people down the passageway, people who cried in pain and exhaustion. She waited for them to come for her, but no one did. She shared her cell with a girl. When they opened the door and light poured in, she saw the haggard creature was older than she. Not too much older, but could she really guess? The girl said she didn't know how long she'd been there, could barely remember her own name._

" _They're Outlanders," the girl had whispered in fear once. Guards would bang on the door if they heard them talking. But she encouraged her cell-mate, yearning for companionship. Her memories were still a blur, but she was certain that somewhere out there, someone missed her._

" _What do they want us for? Where do they take you?"_

" _To their mines. They mine the stones here. My father said..." The girl faltered then, the memory choking her. She crawled over to the girl, reached a hand out until she felt a body, the girl's shoulder. She gripped her companion tight. Human contact was a blessed thing._

" _Your father said?" she prompted._

" _He said … said they are a part of the mountains."_

_The door was wrenched open. The sudden light from the passage blinded her. She shielded her eyes with her hand. A guard came for her, hauled her to her feet. "You," he said. His skin scraped against hers painfully. It registered somewhere, vaguely. A part of the mountain. "Roque wants you."_

_She tried to remember the lefts and rights as she was led away, but it was no use. The labyrinthine complex dizzied her. But, suddenly it began to seem familiar. This door being opened. They didn't throw her to the floor; she was shown a chair._

_The same man stood behind the desk, and she realized that he wasn't a_ man, _whatever he was, this 'Outlander'. The same emerald sat on his desk, only now in a small box, embedded in cloth so soft it looked out of place in the bleak, hopeless room._ Courage _, she told herself._ Have courage. _Somewhere from her foggy memory flashed an image of a hook-nosed spinster, and her heart blossomed with defiance. Clenching her jaw, she challenged him._

" _You," he said. He chuckled; the sound seemed to grate in his throat. "You are a brave little girl."_

" _I'm not a little girl," she countered, trying not to sound petulant, but firm and cold, like him._

" _But you are," he said. He was amused. "And you're the first one to look me in the eyes."_

 

DG awoke slowly. Her limbs were heavy. When she opened her eyes, she knew it was still very late. But it didn't matter. Urging her body out of bed, her unsteady, sleepy steps carried her out of her room. Down a twist of well-lit hallways that hurt her eyes; by the time she reached her destination, she could see a little better.

She banged on the door. Moments later, it swung open.

"Who are the Outlanders?" she demanded.

Ambrose's expression of surprise at seeing her quickly dropped. His eyes skipped nervously before he would meet her gaze. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his room.

"Why do you want to know about the Outlanders?"

DG tried to tell him about her dream, but it was slipping away, wisps of smoke disappearing. Ambrose eyed her suspiciously. "You had a dream about Dorothy Gale? _The_ Dorothy Gale?"

"Yes, Glitch." She left out the part about dreaming she _was_ Dorothy. "Who are these Outlanders?"

"Were," he corrected. "Who _were_ the Outlanders."

She waited. And waited. "Well?" she asked impatiently.

Ambrose had moved to the window. It took him another moment to speak; she could see him struggling with the words. Finally... "They were miners... and mercenaries. Mountain people. They were high in the favor of the last King of the O.Z., Pastor, before he died... let's just say he could have taught the Sorceress a lesson in cruelty."

He sent her back to bed, stammering. She always put up a fight, with everything she was asked. Part of him found it infuriating, the other part was always amused. But when he was alone, he went back to the window. Stared out in the direction of the maze, unable to see it in the darkness.

_They are in greater danger than she anticipated,_ he thought, thinking of the Queen and all her careful planning. _If DG is having dreams about Dorothy, about the Outlanders, we might all be in danger._


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

_\- The Northwestern Road - **  
**_

* * *

It was raining when he was awoken near five. Wyatt Cain had barely slept, and when he did, his dreams had taken him back to Finaqua. He chased her through the maze; every corner he turned, he'd catch her white nightgown slipping around the next bend. She laughed, teased him. _Hurry, or you'll never catch me,_ she'd taunted. _Hurry, Cain._ He'd almost reached her, outstretched his arm to touch her, and –

"Captain," a voice had called.

Now he stood near the camp, watching the woods surrounding them while the rest of the party readied themselves to leave. Azkadellia, looking unrested, walked by him to her horse, her arms laden with the few things she'd brought with her. He averted his gaze from scanning the trees to watch her put her things into the saddlebags; a small drawstring bag, a book, and the wooden chest containing their precious cargo.

Water dripped from the brim of his hat. He turned up the collar of his service coat, walked slowly to the Princess.

"This rain will slow us down a bit," he told her. She turned to him, her dark eyes saying nothing.

"We will ride until we reach our destination, Captain," she said. He was surprised at the finality of her tone. "The Emerald will leave my possession tonight if I have to walk knee-deep through the mud."

Cain sent Hass ahead, and ordered the party to move out. Riding through the rain had never been something he had willingly chosen to do. He urged the horses as fast as they could go without tiring them too quickly, but soon the road began to narrow, the trees closing in. They were forced to ride two abreast, and Cain remained by Azkadellia's side.

While her mother had covered her head with her riding cloak, Azkadellia had left her hood down, and now her hair was soaked. It hung, curly and ragged, down her back, bouncing and whipping with the motion of her ride.

On and on they rode. The trees began to thin.

They had slowed their horses to a walk; Cain was unwilling to stop and rest. The rain was falling heavier. Cain thought, absently, that Hass would be due back at any moment, probably with news about the edge of the forest and the terrain beyond, when suddenly, the Queen's horse reared, nearly unseating her. Cain turned sharply in his saddle, his hand going immediately to his holster.

Burrows was off his horse, grabbing for the bridle of the Queen's mount, trying to steady the frightened creature. The Queen gripped tightly to the reins, holding herself in the saddle. Cain could see her lips moving; she was whispering to the animal, trying to calm it.

"Captain, I see no one," Azkadellia said. She'd stopped, and she sounded frightened.

Cain scanned the trees. His horse stepped nervously sideways. A series of low rumbles, then louder pops broke the silence around them. Cain called out an order to his men, but it was lost as the ground fell out from underneath of them, and they were falling.

 

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

DG's morning magic lesson was an epic failure. The rain on the window cut into her concentration. Tutor grew frustrated.

"You need to focus, DG, focus!"

"I know," she snapped back at him. "That's all you ever say. Focus! You know, I've got an idea for a new magic trick! But I need a saw, and a volunteer from the audience." Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the old man's direction.

Tutor wasn't amused. He looked down at the broken mirror on the table, three shards of glass. "Reassemble the mirror, DG. Use your magic to bind it back together."

DG closed her eyes, but she was impatient. Two hours, he'd had her levitating books, summoning her excited little ball of light, banishing it again. That was his word, banishing. In her mind, she'd only put it away for later. But this broken mirror was presenting yet another challenge.

"DG!"

At that moment, her fingers didn't tingle, but burned with electricity. A flash of lightning coursed through her mind and her eyes flew open to glare at her teacher. But his eyes were wide; she looked down at the table. With a small pop, the shards had turned to dust, and now lay disintegrated on the table. Her jaw dropped.

Tutor closed his eyes, shook his head. "That will be enough for today, DG. Please, go study your books. We'll try again this tomorrow."

But when DG left the library, instead of going to her room to study, she went to find Raw. Knocking on the door of his room was answered by only silence. She called out his name, but no voice came from within. She growled to herself, not understanding why she was so upset; she wanted his gentle presence.

She was wandering the third floor hallway, staring out of windows that looked away from the lake. Rain depressed her, and she wasn't used to being dispirited, wasn't used to walking without purpose. Life inside this palace was smothering her; days filled with reading, with lessons, with walking, with visiting. She wanted something to keep her hands busy, but she was chased from the kitchen, chased from the garage.

It was almost two in the afternoon before the idea crossed her mind to join her father in his workshop in the woods. Her mother had lectured her time and time again not to leave the palace without an escort, but she felt defiant. Angry at the chains that hung from every inch of the palace, animate, reaching for her wrists.

_I need to get out of here._

She went to her room to change from her dress into a pair of slacks, pulled her cloak from its peg inside her wardrobe. She rummaged deep inside to find her sneakers, hidden from the purge of maids and mothers. Weeks she'd spent exploring the palace, to know all the quiet back ways the servants used to get around. She hurried out the kitchen door, not at all enjoying the stir she caused amongst the staff, and around the house. The rain was falling hard, and she pulled up her hood, wrapped the cloak around herself. She was going to petition her mother for a coat or two, with sleeves and buttons.

DG walked the perimeter of the maze, heading towards the woods. She walked slowly as her memories revealed the way. She hadn't actually walked to her father's workshop since their return to the lakeside palace, but she knew, instinctively, it's where he would be.

Something black swooped down from above. She jumped, falling against the towering hedge, frightened. Memories of mobat claws on her arms, in her hair invaded her head, but when she opened her eyes, they fell on a falcon standing in the grass. It wasn't black, but a soft golden brown. It made a small, quiet cry, and clicked its beak at her. But in the next instant, its body distorted, lengthened, until Corporal Hass knelt before her on the grass, soaking wet. His eyes pleaded with her, but before she could say a word, he fell unconscious to the ground.

 

 

* * *

_\- The Underground -_

* * *

Wyatt Cain awoke in complete darkness. His head pounded; he noticed his hat was missing. A strange thing to notice first, but he was coming around fast. He moved to find he was not injured, though his limbs were stiff. He wasn't bound, and that was something else. Checking his holster, he discovered they'd removed his firearm. He felt naked, vulnerable, and he didn't like it.

He grunted as he got onto his knees, then slowly stood. He stretched to his full height without his head making contact with the ceiling. He turned in a full circle; there was absolutely no light anywhere.

He walked blindly a few steps, hands outstretched, until he came into contact with a wall; he ran his fingers along it, felt the cool stone, indents of mortar in between huge, rough cut stones. He followed the wall, from corner to corner to corner to corner. The room was rectangular, and small. The door was reinforced metal, but no illumination seeped from underneath. The floor was dirt, hard packed.

Imprisoned. Again. He had space to move around; so what?

He sat across from the door, on the floor, made no sound. Waited, instead, listening. Waited to hear them first.

His thoughts roamed. He relived the last of his memories; a spooked horse, Az's scared eyes, he'd shouted... something _._ Too late to respond, to make a difference. His soldiers, where were they? In cells near his, also sitting in silence, waiting?

He wondered about his charges. Azkadellia, had they killed her? And her mother; did they both still live?

Hours, he sat... Adora and Jeb swirled in his mind. His son, hunting down fugitive Longcoats, an army at his back. Cain shook his head. Very few people had known that the men sent down for the palace guard had accompanied the Queen and Azkadellia into the wilderness. Almost everyone who knew about this mission had been captured along with him. _DG and Ambrose_ , he thought. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, but he knew it would be a few days still before they were missed.

_Stupid, stupid_ , he scolded himself, knocking his head backwards against the wall once, twice...

He heard water dripping. And a banging that sounded like pipes. When finally he heard footsteps, he thought he might be imagining it. But then metal scraped against metal; they were opening the door to his cell.

Cain rose to his feet. The light spilling in from the passageway was dim, but it nearly blinded him. He put a hand out to shield his eyes, and squinted.

Two men entered the room. They were human, which interested Cain more than it troubled him. One stood behind, an automatic rifle in his hands. The second came forward, stood before Cain.

"You left the royal palace to the south with six soldiers." It was a statement, cold hard truth. Cain said nothing. His captor spoke again. "The Sorceress Azkadellia left with an escort of six armed men." Again, it wasn't a question.

"Princess," Cain corrected smugly. He felt stronger on his feet. "Princess Azkadellia."

"We only captured five men."

Cain took this information in; he kept his face an unimpressed mask. "You let one get away, did you?" Who hadn't they captured? If it was Hass... well, then that was definitely reason to hope.

The man's face showed very little of anything, but it did not register amusement. "Five men," he repeated. "Where is the sixth?"

"Honestly don't know."

The grunt with the gun stepped forward, and Cain's reaction was too slow. His feet were knocked from under him. His comment earned him a swift kick to his ribs; pain shot through his chest, and he coughed. Staggered to his feet.

"Where would your man report?"

Cain grit his teeth together as he stood straight. "He'd report back to the generals at the Witch's Tower." Bold faced lie, no one in the Army of Resistance knew anything of this mission. And no army, human or not, would storm the Witch's Tower in search of one escaped soldier.

"The Witch's Tower is two days ride."

_Two days ride. That could put us anywhere in the damned western mountains_. Cain caught the eyes of the man standing in front of him. His guard had melted back towards the door and the wall. His ribs ached. "Well," he said, as if he were giving the matter great consideration, "if you hurry you might be able to catch him."

Much to his surprise, they didn't beat him. They left him in the dark instead. He backed up towards the wall, slid down to sit again, his arms on his knees. He found himself praying, actually _praying_ , that it was Hass who'd gotten away. He'd report back to Finaqua, to Ambrose, taking less time on the journey if he followed as the crow flies... so to speak.

Cain felt tired, more tired than he had in a long time. Nights recently had not been plagued by nightmares, but had been blissfully empty of dreams, of unrest. The images of his family's abduction had faded, as he'd found himself too busy in Central City to think of them, and too tired at the end of the day to dream of them. He scooted to his left, to the corner, where he'd have more support. He wouldn't lie down, but sleep sitting up.

He heard a soft whine in his head, far off and faint. _I can't sleep sitting up_. Her blue eyes flashed before him in the darkness.

 

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

A pair of gardeners had come to her aid when she screamed for help. As they lifted the unconscious soldier from the grass and struggled to carry him between them across field of knee high grass to the house, DG followed behind in a daze. Her mind raced, thoughts exploding. Her heart felt like lead weight in her chest.

The house was a flurry of activity when the shouting group banged into the entry way. People started calling out, for Ambrose and for water and for blankets. DG backed against the wall, watched as Ambrose tore down the stairs, nearly tripping over his feet as he reached the bottom. His face did little to mask his concern and fear. She grabbed a passing page boy roughly by the arm, startling the poor thing.

She relaxed her grip. "Someone must go for my father."

The boy nodded. "Yes, your Highness." He ran out the front door into the rain.

She stumbled across the the marble tile, down a wide corridor, where she knew a secluded alcove hid behind a thick tapestry. A place where extra chairs were kept; the palace's version of a storage closet. Once she'd lifted the tapestry out of the way, and let it fall with a _whoosh_ behind her, she didn't even bother with a chair; she lowered herself to her knees on the cold floor.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she breathed deeply, evenly, trying to calm herself. _Azkadellia_ , she thought in fear. _Mother._ And then... _Cain... oh, please no._ She put one hand on her chest, covered her eyes with the other. A ridiculous position for a princess to be found in, kneeling on the floor covering her eyes like a child playing hide-and-seek. She knew they were trying to revive the corporal now; she wanted to be there when he awakened.

"Calm down," she whispered to herself. "You don't know... you can't know yet. Find out what's going on."

After a moment, her advice to herself seemed to take effect. She got up on unsteady legs, and stepped out of her hiding place. It took her a few minutes to find an attendant.

"Where did they take the corporal?"

"The library, my lady," the attendant stammered, daunted by her urgency. DG had little time to dwell on it as she ran through the hallways, her sneakers pounding on the floor. She was out of breath when she reached the library; she tried to slip in quietly.

The soaked corporal was laid out on the chaise lounge near the window. Raw stood behind, stooped to hold his hands on the man's shoulders. Trying to awaken him. Raw was shaking his head, his expression fallen, sad. DG's heart plummeted. No one had yet seen her.

Ambrose watched out the window, chewing absently on his fingernail. Every few seconds, he would glance nervously over his shoulder, to the soldier laying not too far away. DG couldn't decide who looked more upset. She skirted the perimeter of the room, quietly as possible so as not to disturb the Viewer, and approached Ambrose at the window.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, waved dismissively. But then he noticed her, _really_ noticed her, and he looked instantly suspicious. Impatiently, he whispered "What happened out there?"

DG was unimpressed with his tone, but knew better than to tell him off here. "He's a shapeshifter. He... well, a falcon flew down and landed in the grass right in front of me, and shifted into Corporal Hass. Then he passed out. He didn't say a single word. Then, I called for help."

A sharp intake of breath behind them alerted them to the soldier's consciousness. Both DG and Ambrose whipped around. Hass immediately pulled himself into a sitting position.

"They've been captured."

DG felt her stomach drop, her heart stop. "Captured?" Did she hear right?

"Bella!" Ambrose shouted. He left the window, went to the door of the library. The shocked woman hurried in, her eyes wide. "Bella, you must send for General Andrus..." he slowed, stopped. "No, I have to send for Andrus. You can't do it." He left the room at a run.

Raw had taken a step back from the chaise, stood against the wall. He'd seen something in Hass' mind, something that greatly disturbed him. He looked in pain. DG put her hand on his arm.

"Raw?" But the Viewer only shook his head.

She sat down on the lounger next to the corporal. When his gaze met hers, she grabbed his hand. She looked into the eyes of the last person who had seen her mother, her sister... and _him_.

"What happened?" She tried to keep her voice steady. Tears threatened, but she blinked them away.

"I... I can't tell you, Princess," the soldier muttered. "I was sent ahead... the captain sent me ahead to scout... my eyesight is better than most..." DG watched him, as his eyes searched frantically at the floor, trying to make sense of what he had seen. "I could hear their horses, the captain shouting. Then a woman screamed, I think it was your sister..." he trailed off. A wave of nausea hit her, but with difficulty she fought it back. Az... oh, when would they have peace?

Ahamo was calling her name. DG stood, put her hand on Hass' shoulder, trying to steady herself. "The library!" she shouted, maybe louder than necessary. A moment later, he was standing in the doorway. He eyed the soldier, moved forward quickly. He grabbed his daughter and embraced her tight.

"What happened?" he demanded; his voice was hard.

Hass shook his head. "I heard them shouting. The horses were scared. The ground collapsed, a huge hole just swallowed them up. I shifted right then, on my orders. Flew here... the princess was the first person I saw as I came over the maze."

"When, when did this happen?" Ahamo asked.

"Mid-morning, perhaps eleven o'clock."

DG shook her head. Eleven... she'd been in her magic lesson. The thought seemed absurd; to be inside doing something so menial when those she loved were terrorized and abused. Her stomach flared again. "I... I have to go," she said weakly. Ahamo watched her go, but did not follow her.

She walked with composure. She realized she was still wearing her cloak, but her trembling fingers fumbled at the fastenings. She tore it over her head, threw it to the floor in the middle of the hallway, left it behind. No one saw her; the second floor was empty, not a single person in sight.

When she reached her sitting room, she slammed the door behind her. She leaned back against it, breathing hard. She felt sick. _Captured_ , she thought. She heard Hass' words, over and over again in her mind, a scratched record. _A huge hole just swallowed them up... a huge hole just swallowed them up_...

DG gripped a pillow in her arms, held onto it for dear life. She prayed to God, the God of the Other Side, wondering if his influence was as far reaching as the Outer Zone.

A soft knock on her door. "Come in," she called, still trying to fight back her tears. Like holding back the tide, she failed miserably. The first drop slid down her face, clung to her chin.

It was Raw who entered. She sat up quickly, released her pillow. _Crying and praying_ , she scolded herself. _Cain wouldn't cry_ or _pray._

Raw was shaking his head at her. "DG is upset too quick," he said wisely. "Army man will be here by morning. DG's father takes action; find peace in this."


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_ **  
**

* * *

By Monday evening, as twilight fell over the lake palace, DG had taken a seat in Ambrose's study and refused to move.

Ambrose stood at the window, staring into the darkness. She wondered how much beyond his own reflection he could see, if he was really seeing anything at all. Ahamo had abandoned the study, had disappeared somewhere deep within the palace. DG had sat stone still while her father had moved about frantically, and wherever he was now she knew that he would still be on the same momentum that had sent him out the study door in the first place.

Corporal Hass was standing over the desk, staring at the map that had been laid out. The men had drawn all over it, first the expected travel route of that the company had taken... or had hoped to take, at least. A huge red circle surrounded the area where the disappearance had taken place, labeled _Mon_ _1100hrs._

They waited on General Andrus, and what they all guessed would be a very large group of soldiers. DG knew now that danger had been expected, that her mother had hoped secrecy would be on their side, that they just wouldn't meet trouble in the first place. DG had asked, somewhat tartly, if they had let Glitch plan the mission.

She felt angry, betrayed that no one had told her that her family, that Cain and his men had been in any danger at all. She'd known that Longcoats had presented a threat, as they constantly did now, but she had been under the impression that they couldn't mount an offensive as scattered and ill-equipped as they were without the Sorceress' power behind their backs.

She'd wanted to scream. But she knew such behavior would quickly get her banished back to the kids' table. So she held her tongue, and stewed quietly in the corner. But after a while, silence became incredibly lonely.

"Andrus is coming by car?" she asked no one in particular.

"General Andrus," Ambrose corrected. DG tried to look sheepish. "Yes, he's on his way now. Your mother's secret mission isn't so secret anymore."

DG shook her head. "She should have taken more men."

Hass shook his head, and for the first time since arriving, he cracked a smile. "That's what the captain said." DG looked away, the mere mention of his name sent her mind reeling. Too many fears and uncertainties muddled her thinking. The corporal continued, "He thought we should have waited a day, taken more men."

Ambrose shook his head. "But your mother was quite adamant about leaving as soon as possible."

Cain's voice echoed in her head. _Quick and dead... slow and breathin'._ She glanced at the clock; it was almost nine. She stood and said goodnight. Both men barely noticed her, which, in her stressed state, she was thankful for. In the demands of the situation, formalities were forgotten.

She walked slowly down the hallway, towards the front of the palace. _They would have put the Emerald back by now_ , she thought. _And in the morning, they would start home._

No matter the darkness, they had been provided with one tiny glimmer of hope. Wherever they were, they were _alive_. Raw knew as much. In her bedroom, when he'd come to comfort her, he had told her. "Tin Man and mother and sister are alive. They sit in darkness, but they are alive."

She didn't go to her rooms. She wasn't sure if in this vast palace she would hear the arrival of General Andrus. She also worried about going to sleep at all. She didn't want to dream about Dorothy, didn't want to dream of dark, narrow places. After an hour of wandering the hallways, she returned to Ambrose's study, not seeing any point in going to bed. When she reached the doorway, she could hear them talking.

"If they've been taken by Longcoats, we have more hope of finding them," Ambrose said. Then he laughed. "Hey, how many Longcoats does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"But, if they've been taken by Outlanders, the general will have no hope of finding them unless he is threatened directly or contacted for demands," Hass said. DG could tell he'd already grown accustomed to ignoring Ambrose's glitchy outbursts.

DG cleared her throat. Both men turned to look at her, startled. "They could have been taken by Outlanders?"

Ambrose studied the floor. DG wasn't sure he would tell her what was going on; she reached out and touched his wrist. "Please, Glitch," she said softly. "I want to know what's going on."

Glitch's dark eyes met hers. "It's possible. Your mother was worried about the threat they presented, or could possibly have presented. They seek an end to the Gale dynasty."

DG's eyes narrowed. She looked intently at her shoes for a moment before speaking. "They want to kill my family?"

The corporal spoke up, trying to make his tone as comforting as possible, but DG didn't find him the least bit reassuring. "No... no, we don't think its as serious as that. We think they are trying to remove your family from power, from the throne of the O.Z."

"But _why_?" she asked.

"During the rule of King Pastor, the Outlanders were little more than mercenaries. Foreign, but still... Pastor usually hired them to do, um... his _dirty_ work," Ambrose said. "It was quite an interesting relationship. He'd want something done, and he'd pay them to do it. The Outlanders provided the King with jewels from their mines, and the King _overlooked_ the human slaves they took from the borderlands."

He dropped his tone so low that DG had to lean close to hear him, as if he were afraid the long buried monarch would burst out from behind the curtains. "When Dorothy Gale was chosen as his successor to the throne, she had the Outlanders banished from the O.Z. on pain of death."

DG didn't need to hear anymore. She held up her hand, and went back to her chair in the corner. Settling down, she pulled her knees to her chest and put her arms around them. Hass was watching her curiously. But Ambrose just shook his head, went to the desk to study the map again. In less than six hours, General Andrus would arrive. DG couldn't seem to stretch her brain to think very far beyond that. She lay her head down in the cradle of her arms, and closed her eyes.

 

 

_It was a small room, but it was dry, and there was a lamp. A cot was pushed up against the wall. The door was unlocked._

_She wandered the underground complex. Anyone she met gave her wide berth; no one would speak to her. She could explore for days, but eventually she always came across a locked door, a dead end. She was trapped; even if she could walk the prison, she was still a prisoner._

_Evenings, she was expected to sit in Roque's suite of rooms like an ornament. Said he enjoyed her cheek... so she stopped giving it. She sat silently, trying not to look bored. Exploring the complex was much more interesting; she could find the dungeons, barracks, and kitchens now. She knew, also, that she had been previously kept in the slave quarters._

_Roque was not bothered by her silence. He spoke to her anyway. "Found something that I think might interest old Pastor," he said. She knew he spoke of the glowing emerald. It sat before her on the table, like a showpiece. It made her uneasy. He caught her staring at it. "We wait on Pastor's men to come examine that. Might be very important. Might be_ very _valuable_. _"_

 

 

Someone was shaking her. "DG, go to bed. Its almost four a.m., you need to go to your room."

She opened her eyes, confused. "Glitch?"

The advisor helped her to her feet. She rubbed her eyes, swaying at the shift in position. "Come on, DG. I'll take you."

She shook her head as he caught her by the elbow, began to pull her from the room. "No, I want to be awake when Andrus arrives."

"DG, the general is already here, and they're waiting to use my study. I can't exactly cover you with a blanket and hope they don't notice you muttering in your sleep. You can't be there, you don't have the clearance," he told her. She began to protest but he cut her off. "No, I will tell you everything in the morning, I promise. Don't argue, you're only going to embarrass yourself in front of Andrus and his men. Arguing makes you sound petulant."

"Look who's talking about embarrassing oneself," she snorted. "And being petulant!"

Glitch looked her in the eyes. "I promise, first chance I get."

She sighed. "Fine, but I go begrudgingly." He smirked, turned around and walked back the way they had come. "Begrudgingly!" she called after him. As she crossed from one wing to the next, passing the top of the grand stairs, she could hear men talking from below. They were crossing the foyer, headed towards the front doors.

Her eyes widened; she was already on her way down the stairs when she called out.

"Cain!"

 

 

* * *

_\- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

The weathered old man that brought his meals also brought him meager tidbits of life within the prison.

The first visit occurred a few hours after he'd been kicked off his feet. Cain had fallen asleep in the corner of the room, and the sound of the lock disengaging brought him to immediate alertness. He climbed to his feet, squinting in the bright light that flooded his cell.

An old man shuffled in, carrying a tray. In the middle of the room he stooped, placed the tray on the dirt floor. He grunted loudly as he pulled himself to standing again.

"What day is it?" Cain asked him, hardly hoping for a response.

"It's late Monday," the old man wheezed. Cain eyed the tray, noticed along with the paltry offering of food, a few white candles and a box of matches sat. The old man padded slowly out of the cell; Cain saw a guard standing outside in the hall, who closed the door and left him in darkness once again.

It was difficult to light a match in the dark, but he managed after a few attempts. After putting the small meal into his stomach, he walked around the perimeter of his room again, holding the candle aloft, studying the walls. He nearly tripped on a metal bucket sitting in one corner; good to know where _that_ was.

He blew out his candle, and placed the bundle and matches in the pocket of his jacket. He thought, absently, of his duster, hanging in the tiny box of an apartment in Central City, and its deeper pockets. _What a stupid thing to think about_ , he chided himself.

He wandered the room. Sat, stood, paced, sat again. Kicked the door a few times, for good measure. Did push-ups, furiously, until he collapsed with his face on the floor. How many hours had passed? How long would he be kept in this dark hole?

He slept. Nightmares plagued his brain, ruined the escape of slumber.

He was awake, leaning against the wall when the door was opened again. The same old man walked in, bent over, Cain thought, to mask his height. He was carrying a new tray. A bowl, with a grayish sticky paste inside. Appetizing. He placed the tray in the middle of the room as he had done previously, then walked over to the far wall, where the old tray sat. Cain did nothing to move, to help the old man.

As the aged body bent to pick up the tray, Cain heard a bristled whisper. "Your Queen gives them trouble. One of the guards thought he'd fancy a touch. She put a hairpin in his hand."

Cain did nothing, said nothing. The old man left him alone in the darkness. When the door scraped closed, Cain managed a smile, the first since waking up in this pit of hell. Not only did this news amuse him, he knew now that the Queen lived. Somewhere, she sat. Imprisoned as he was, he didn't know. Maybe now, after a stunt like that. He shook his head, a faint smile still on his lips.

Tuesday morning. Rain or not, they'd be on their return journey now, the Emerald locked away in the tombs with the Grey Gale. Two days ago, he'd promised DG he would return to Finaqua, spend a few lazy days at her beck and call. But... no, he'd _promised_ nothing.

He closed his eyes in the darkness, ignored the food that waited for him. _Sorry, Princess. This is going to take a bit longer than we thought._

 

 

Azkadellia perched uncomfortably on the edge of a black leather sofa. The room around her was lavishly decorated, its opulence exceeding that of even her mother's tastes. It reminded her too much of the Witch, the heavy fabrics and dark colors.

She'd been in this room for almost a day. A young girl in dirty rags brought her food, tidied up a bit. The girl wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't make eye contact. It was something Az had become used to since returning from the Witch's tower, and it didn't bother her.

Az had awoken in this room in her riding clothes, her face smudged with dirt. The room had no windows, and the door was locked from the outside. She'd kicked the door, screamed, begged, and cried. Called for her mother, her father. No one had come for hours, and when the door finally did open, only the little girl in the patched dress had come in. A guard stood in the doorway with an intimidating automatic weapon. But he didn't wear the familiar leather longcoat and that confused her. Scared her.

A bookshelf held many volumes, but she didn't look at them. She had explored every corner of the room, found nothing that would help her. Her belongings had been dumped on the table in the center of the room; her bag of silly toiletry items, the wooden box containing the Emerald. When she saw it, her heart had leaped with joy. She spent the whole of her first day pacing restlessly, one wall to another. Sometimes she cried, more often she didn't. She'd slept in the bed, on top of the covers.

That morning (if it really was morning, if she could really trust the clock hanging from the wall), a woman had bustled in behind the little girl. Her clothes, too, were dirty, torn. But in her arms, she carried a bundle wrapped in tissue paper. She shoved it at Azkadellia.

"You're to put this on. Your audience with the Commander is to be this afternoon." The woman nodded towards the small adjoining bath. "You'd best hurry, he's an impatient one." Then the ragged pair left her alone again. Az unwrapped the package, found inside a black dress of lace and silk.

She bathed, then combed her hair. She had only a ribbon to tie her hair at the nape of her neck. She slipped the dress on, glad to be rid of the scratch and smell of her riding suit, worn too many days.

And now, she sat on the sofa. Waiting, watching the door. She wrung her hands in her lap. Commander... of what?

She heard feet in the hallway, heard the lock click. Two guards entered the room, stood against the wall inside the door. Az rose slowly to her feet.

The man who entered next was so tall, he had to duck his head as he came in the door. Azkadellia studied him. He wore a sleeveless tunic, military-style cargo pants. A holster held a firearm at his hip. His skin looked rough, his face hard. Black eyes bore into her.

She was frightened, but tried not to let it show. She raised her chin. If possession by the Witch had taught her only one thing she remembered, it was how to be a bitch.

The Commander nodded towards her, as if he was choosing her from a room full of people. "You are the Keeper of the Emerald."

Az said nothing. She worried at any moment her emotions would betray her, that she would collapse in a crying heap. The Commander stared at her, and though his face did not visibly soften, his next words were gentler.

"You need not be frightened of me, your Highness." His courtesies didn't sway her. She tried to stand firm on her feet, straightened her shoulders.

"Where is my mother?" Azkadellia demanded.

He cocked his head to the side, sizing her up. "Your mother's living quarters resemble yours. She's quite safe."

Az shook her head. "No. Not safe! Living quarters? This is a prison."

"Your mother is only confined because she insists on being difficult."

"I've been locked in here since my arrival!" she protested.

"You will be free to go soon, little girl," he said derisively. "First, you must do something for me."

She was confused. "There is nothing I can do for you."

Then he echoed his greeting. "You are the Keeper of the Emerald."

Az said nothing, again. What could she say? Her mother's mission would not be revealed by her tongue, they would have to pry the information from her head.

"We discovered a curious thing when we went through your belongings," he said. He began to walk in a slow circle around the room, wandering from one piece of furniture to the next. When he ran his fingertips over the surfaces, she could hear them scratching the wood. "That box is locked by magic."

He had moved out of where she could see him, but she didn't turn. Without looking at him, she felt braver; she tried to channel the angry, intimidating person she'd been forced to be for so long. "That box is locked by powerful magic. You will never open it."

"But you can." The Commander tapped his finger on the mantel of the fireplace. Stone against stone.  _Chink, chink, chink._

"I won't," she said. She made her voice hard, tried on a familiar tone, thicker, deeper.

He chuckled. "You don't have a choice."

"But I do."

The Commander came up behind her quickly. Grabbing a handful of her hair, his fingers scraped against the back of her neck; his skin felt pebbled, like sandpaper. Az cried out loud, surprised by the sudden aggression. She was alone; DG was perhaps hundreds of miles away, unable to help her, unable to supplement her magic to save her. He turned her around roughly; she stared up into his face, his black eyes. He dragged her over to the table.

"Open the box." When she didn't move, he grabber her wrist; the alarming thought that he could probably hold _both_ of her arms in his massive grip crossed her mind. But he held her hand over the box. He released her hair, but still held her by the wrist. " _Open the box._ "

Azkadellia was terrified. Her sensitive skin could feel the warmth of the magic radiating from the lock; she felt it seeping into her hand. It burned like acid flowing through her veins, up her arms and into her chest. With all her might, she tried to shove it back towards its source, not caring if the force of it blew the lock. Her emotions surged like an electrical current. "I can't!" she screamed, and the shock-wave that erupted with her words threw the Commander backwards. He hit the wall and slid to the floor.

Az snapped her arm back toward her chest, cradled it against her. The pain was dissipating fast, but her heart hammered, she had a hard time catching her breath. The Commander pulled himself to his feet, glared hard at her. Az dropped her gaze, dared not look at him. He snapped his fingers, and walked out of the room, his guards following close behind. He left the box on the table. The sound of them locking her in seemed to echo.

Through a maze of hallways, he came to a stop at a heavy door. The Commander nodded at the guard, who fumbled with his keys, unlocked the door.

Still as a statue, the Queen of the O.Z. sat on the bed. She didn't look surprised to see him. The magical surge had probably disrupted the entire complex.

"Commander," she said softly, and smiled at him. As if she were pleased to see him.

"Your daughter will not release the Emerald," he told her. The Queen said nothing, her face unchanging. He shook his head, and decided to get a little satisfaction in dragging the expression off her features.

He turned to the guards who had followed him in, who stood by the door at attention. "Shore," he barked, addressing one. "Organize a raiding party. You're going upstairs. The Princess Azkadellia misses her sister."


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

_\- Finaqua - **  
**_

* * *

Andrus disliked Jeb Cain with a passion.

The older general stared down the young man before him, an expression of exasperation on his face. "How did you get here before us?" he asked.

The young man shrugged. "I heard at the barracks about the Queen's escort going missing, so I thought my help might be needed."

"Your orders were to stay in Central City."

Jeb shrugged.

Andrus repeated himself. "But how did you get here before us?"

Again, Jeb shrugged. "I'm a fast driver."

Andrus turned away from the young soldier. The little bastard was too smug, too proud. He'd willingly stepped down to a less taxing position when the Resistance fighters had become her Majesty's official force. But he still carried the attitude of a man who took orders from no one.

Jeb was staring at Andrus' back. The old general had his hands clasped, as if he were thinking. If he'd have bounced once or twice on the balls of his feet, he might have been the headcase advisor. To the general's back, Jeb smiled. Andrus was uptight, and he found it funny. Jeb found a lot of things amusing these days.

Andrus spoke, his back to Jeb still. "I have been informed by the Prince Consort that his youngest daughter will require some _watching over._ Do you think an impetuous young man such as yourself would be able to handle such a menial task as babysitting a fully grown princess?"

The smile was wiped from Jeb's face. _Ouch._ "Yes, sir," he said quietly. Andrus wasn't as amused at the situation as he was, and now had let him know it. A refusal would mean being sent straight back to Central City, maybe caught up at the government offices filling out paperwork for days while the rescue was launched. Jeb was not about to leave his father a prisoner. But his plan had backfired; now he was on guard duty.

Outside in the passageway, a friend waited, leaning against the wall. Campbell had been in Jeb's unit during the storm on the Tower, and hand selected by the general for the mission... unlike Jeb Cain. When Jeb emerged, Campbell followed him down the hallway. He was chuckling by the time they reached the grand foyer.

"Maybe you'll get to go to a tea party. Remember, stick to talking about the weather," he taunted. Jeb found it hard not to knock the idiot unconscious right there. Things weren't so funny when it wasn't going your way.

"Cain!" came a shout from behind him. Both men turned to see DG running down the stairs towards them. Jeb managed to force a bit of a smile as he bowed his head respectfully towards her.

"Your Highness," he said, plastered with a fake smile. DG narrowed her gaze at him.

"What's your problem?"

Jeb laughed, relaxing a bit at her forwardness. "I came down here to see what I could do to help. As it turns out, what I get to do to help is be your personal escort for the next couple of days while the general negotiates the search for your mother..."

_And my father_ , he thought a little bitterly. Not many people cared about the ex-Tin Man who was missing when he'd disappeared alongside the reigning monarch and the heiress presumptive.

"Well, try not to sound so pissed off about it," she said, but she was throwing an exhausted smile in his direction. "I'll see you at breakfast. I'm going to bed, gentlemen. Goodnight."

DG turned and walked away, impressed with herself at how well she'd managed her manners while so tired. It didn't hit her until the top of the stairs, after the men had left the building, what exactly Jeb had said. _Personal escort_. Her mind whirred all the way to her sitting room, but by the time she hit her bed, she didn't care. Let him trail her for a few days, what did it matter, they were all stuck between their inability to do anything and their ignorance at what needed to be done. Rock, hard place.

She was so tired, so drained that she didn't dream.

When she awoke, the suns might have risen, but the sky was gray and overcast. The clock read a little past nine. She could hear the maids bustling quietly outside in the sitting room. Usually they chattered amongst themselves, but today they were silent. DG rose from her bed and dressed as quickly as possible. She surprised the maids when she burst out of her room. They all greeted her nervously. She ignored them, walked briskly past – she'd almost broken her toe her first night at Finaqua, running through the sitting room.

She was halfway across the palace, on her way to Ambrose's study, before she realized Jeb Cain was shadowing her. A discreet ten paces behind, strolling along comfortably with his hands in his pockets as if he might just be going that way, too. She rolled her eyes, and kept walking.

"Good morning, Jeb," she said, without turning around.

"Good morning, DG," came his reply from behind her. "Did you sleep well?"

She slowed then so he could catch up. "Like a rock. Were you just standing outside my room, waiting for me to get up?"

"On my orders, my lady," was all Jeb had to say. DG continued her march to the study. When she got there, guard in tow, the door was hanging open. Peeking in, she saw no one; when she stepped in properly, she saw Ambrose sitting with his chair leaned back, a cup of coffee in his hand, feet up on the desk.

"Hey DG," he said with a smile. He looked exhausted.

She gestured to the mess of books, maps, and papers on his desk. "Rough night?"

Ambrose shook his head. "It isn't even nearly over. They launched the initial search party left this morning at first sunrise." He rummaged around on the desk for a moment, extracted a large sheet. When he laid it back down on top of the pile, DG saw it was a map. Ambrose pointed to the dot that was Finaqua. His finger followed a winding line that ran northwest. "Now," he said slowly. "Hass says there is an obstruction in the road that might stop the trucks. But if they can find a way around it, they'll be able to take them almost right up until where Cain had the party make camp."

"Where is Hass?"

Ambrose sighed. "Gods only know. The General was quite dismissive of his statements, keeps saying people falling into the ground would take months of planning, that if _he,_ the general, didn't know about the Queen's plan, how could enemies have surmounted such a task. Andrus is an idiot, and an ass."

DG smiled at her friend; for Ambrose to use profanity meant a huge dislike for the general. "He's a little prejudiced against shapeshifters," Ambrose said after a few moments. "Some people in the O.Z. think they tend to be untrustworthy individuals."

DG studied the map intently, waving off his comments about Andrus and his foregone conclusions. "You say a search party already left?"

Ambrose nodded. "A few hours ago."

The sound of footsteps from the hall broke their conversation. General Andrus, three other soldiers with him, walked into the study. Ambrose offered DG a weak smile as he escorted her out of the study, handed her over to young Jeb Cain, and closed the door behind him.

DG stared at the door for a few moments, surprised he'd closed it. Then she sighed, and turned to her companion. "Are you hungry?"

 

 

The day passed slowly, silently. It was late afternoon, her mother had been missing over a day. She felt lost in the palace without her mother. She'd spent most days watching as her mother quietly went about her tasks, signed papers, made dictations. But when out of the shadows her father would appear, DG would slowly fade into the background to leave the two alone.

Now, she was lonely. Her father was distracted, Ambrose hurried from one room to another without seeing where he was going. Raw stayed in his small chamber, meditating, trying to feel at all times the connection to the Queen and her daughter, to know if they were being harmed.

In the dark, narrow hallway outside his room, DG sat on the floor. It was the only place she felt anchored to her mother and sister, and to Cain. She stole a glance at his son, now. At the end of the passage, young Jeb Cain leaned against the wall, watching down the hall for anyone coming.

It wasn't the shouts of men that alerted her to trouble, it was Jeb's shift in position, the way he suddenly moved from slouching to standing upright. When she keened her ears, she heard it: the sound of shouts, muffled, coming from far off. She jumped to her feet and took off down the hallway. She thought she might have heard him shout a warning, or perhaps a curse, at her back.

Men in uniform were running in and out of the palace. Everywhere, it seemed, people were shouting. She slapped Jeb on the arm.

"Go find out what's going on," she whispered. He looked around, and then his gaze met hers and he nodded. She watched him disappear. She moved towards the wall, trying to stay out of sight. Looking out the window, she saw a lone soldier walking the path towards the stables. It looked like Corporal Hass.

Jeb came running back towards her. His expression was grave.

"What is it?" she asked. The look on his face scared her.

"They found two of your mother's escort, dead," he said after a moment. DG closed her eyes, felt suddenly ill. She tried to shake it off; she didn't want to cry or be sick in front of Cain's son. Jeb gave her a few minutes, noticing how upset she became, before going on. "The search party returned with the bodies."

"Which?" she could barely bring herself to ask.

"I can't remember the names," he said shortly. "But my father isn't among them."

"No, Cain is alive, wherever he is," she whispered. She looked around. The palace at Finaqua, the lake paradise where she and her family were supposed to reconnect and rebuild the O.Z., was slowly crumbling around her. This was no safe haven, this was no place of rest.

"There's more," Jeb said. "The bodies were found over ten miles from where Hass said the attack happened. But the bodies were dumped there, I overheard. They're trying to discredit the scout that got away, trying to lay a false trail."

"And Andrus doesn't believe the corporal in the first place," she said slowly, softly.

Jeb watched the princess closely, as she seemed to study her surroundings. She took off at a run so suddenly that it took him a moment to force his body to go after her. She led him out of the palace, along the lake shore; they followed the perimeter of the maze until they were at the stables.

Corporal Hass was saddling a horse. He looked angry. When he saw DG approaching, he stopped what he was doing, watched her carefully.

"Is there something I can do for you, your Highness?" he asked.

DG nodded. Jeb still watched her closely. "You can take us to where they disappeared." She called to Beaudon, the stable hand who stood listening. "Please saddle my horse and a horse for my escort. We're going for a ride in the woods."

Jeb was amazed at her. "You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble," was all he could manage to say.

DG shook her head. "Az... Cain, my mother... they are out there and no one in that palace seems to be doing a single thing to find them. The search party returned, how long until they send out another one? I'm not standing around waiting for someone to decide they are going to do something. _I'm_ going to do something, and you can come with me if you want, or you can go back up to the palace and tell Ambrose what I'm doing. Its your choice." She was resolute.

Jeb sighed, shaking his head. "My father was right about you."

DG turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"He said you were stubborn enough to rival my mother."

DG tried to smile. _Cain._ She wished she could send her thoughts on the wind, that her silent plea might reach him wherever he was, give him hope in his darkness. _I don't know what we can do to save you, or my sister. But we're going to try. Hold on._

 

 

* * *

_\- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

The heavy door opened, light spilling into the dark cell. Wyatt Cain shielded his eyes, stumbled to his feet. Two guards stood in the doorway. "You are being relocated," was all he was told. Five minutes later, he found himself shackled, and marched down a twist of narrow passages.

He did all he could to study his surroundings. Wherever they were, his best bet was they were underground. Led up a flight of stairs and down another hallway. They met no one as he was moved.

They shoved him roughly into another dark hole; he fell to his knees. Hauled to his feet and unshackled, the light from the passage outside showed him a table with a chair, a kerosene lamp. A bare cot. The floors and the walls were concrete, large pipes running along one end, disappearing into the wall, into the belly of the fortress.

When they closed the door behind him, he could hear the simplicity of the lock that held him. Just a key in the keyhole.

The cell was larger than the one below. Barely, but still. It was a little warmer, as well. He found the cot in the darkness and lay down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

When Cain awoke, it was to the click of the lock. In shuffled his visitor from downstairs, the ragged old man.

"Why was I moved?" Cain asked. He could see a guard standing outside his door.

The old man was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. He placed the supper tray down on the table. "Your stay has been extended, says the guards."

"So we are to be released?"

"If your ladies cooperate." The old man struck a match, lit the lamp. The light shone a ghastly orange glow on his craggy face. The old man turned to go. "They wait now for the second."

"Second?"

"Don't be a fool, boy!" the old man exclaimed. He shuffled out of the room.

The guard outside the door shoved the man in the back with the butt of his rifle. "Move along!"

Wyatt Cain was left alone as the door was closed and locked. He ran a hand over his short hair, stared at the food on the table without really seeing it. In his head echoed the words he'd told Hass their first night in the woods.

_DG is in no danger._

In the corner of the room was a tiny closet, containing a toilet and sink. He ran the water, washed his face, his hands. When he caught sight of his reflection in the cracked mirror, empty blue eyes stared back at him. His mind ran wild with the possibilities of _why_ DG would be sought out. But everything he could imagine ended in ways he'd rather not picture. The removal of the royal family, the death of that fiery, mouthy girl he'd grown to care for, against all odds, on their journey together.

He returned to his small table. He wasn't hungry, but he drank the cup of water that came with the meal. He sat in the rickety chair, holding the cup in his hands, rolling it in his fingers.

Waited until morning, when the old man would return.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that I once cast my original characters. So imagine, please...
> 
> Jeremy Hass, a fresh-faced and bespectacled Colin Hanks. (Think "King Kong".)  
> General Andrus, a very uptight Michael Caine.  
> The old caretaker, a grizzled and unshaven Patrick Stewart.  
> And the Commander himself, who else would do but Dwayne Johnson?

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

It was late evening. Ambrose stood listening to the general and his men pouring over the maps, barely able to keep his eyes open. Ahamo stood silently, watching and listening to everything the general said. The poor man was in over his head. Threats and intimidation he knew how to do, but this nothingness, this helplessness was new to him. He looked lost.

"The search teams found nothing to support the corporal's reports," the general told Ahamo.

"You didn't even make it to where he said they disappeared," Ambrose pointed out. "Of course you found nothing to support what he told you."

Andrus shook his head. "Your Highness," he said, turning to Ahamo and ignoring Ambrose. "It would be my best advice to remove yourself and the remaining princess to the safety of Central City. You will need to make a formal announcement about the disappearance of her Majesty and the Princess Royal."

Ahamo shook his head. "Central City? There is no reason to go to Central City."

"Sir, with all due respect, you cannot remove yourself enough from this situation to see things clearly," Andrus said calmly.

Ambrose was impressed; the general was such a hard-ass, it was almost amazing to think he'd noticed the bereft state the consort was in.

Andrus continued. "This palace is not easily defended. If you move to Alta Toretta in Central City, you would be surrounded by capable soldiers. And, you must make a statement to the public. I think it is the best way to coerce our enemies into contacting you. If your Viewer says the women are still alive, being kept somewhere, there must be a reason."

Ahamo was silent.

"There will be no hope of finding your wife and daughter if their kidnappers do not contact us. The outcry of the citizens might be enough to drive your enemies into revealing their demands a little sooner. They have been missing almost thirty-six hours, your Highness. Without being contacted, there is little hope of finding your family."

Andrus heard a giggle from behind him. He turned to see Ambrose standing in the shadows, a smile on his face and a hand over his mouth trying to hide it.

"Is something amusing you, sir?" he asked, his words barbed.

The advisor shook his head. "No, not at all, general. It's just you said there is little hope... this is usually when DG runs in to save the day." Realization quickly wiped the smile from his face.

Ahamo's head snapped up from studying the map, but Ambrose was already running from the room.

 

 

* * *

_\- The Northwestern Road -_

* * *

She was beginning to think that being impulsive might be a failing.

By the time evening fell, it was too dark for them to continue forward with any obvious speed. Her seat was numb and her thighs were sore. She didn't know how late it was, didn't know how long they had been riding. Hass hadn't put up an argument, had lead them into the forest down the same path that Cain had led her mother and sister. They met no A.R. soldiers, no animals; they saw or heard no birds.

The first few hours had been exciting, dangerous. DG kept looking behind her, afraid to see an army truck rumbling up the road behind them to take her back to Finaqua. But as the miles melted away, she grew complacent in the fact that maybe they wouldn't notice her gone for _hours_. They might think her quietly hiding in her bedroom, crying as a good princess would, watched over by her personal bodyguard. In no danger, nothing to worry about.

"Corporal, will we stop soon?" she asked.

"As soon as we find water, your Highness," he replied. Berating him had done little to get him to call her 'DG', and so she bore his formality with gritted teeth every time he spoke.

They traveled through the thickening twilight, their only consolation that their horses wouldn't lose the road. DG craned her neck upwards. Through the trees, she saw the sky; the afternoon clouds had broken and now in the darkness the stars were beginning to come out.

She was wet, covered in mud. The white lace tea dress she'd put on that morning was destroyed; looking down at the embroidery of the skirt, she felt like she'd committed a crime, splattering the beautiful piece of clothing in muck and grime. She'd taken off her corset hours back in what modesty standing behind a tree could give her. She didn't care, she was just glad to be able to take it off and put it away.

And then there were the bugs. She had learned, traveling with Cain, and Glitch, and Raw, that the O.Z. was not without mosquitoes, and now, after two rainy, wet days, they were out in full force. As they rode through the darkness, she wondered if she might be able to channel her Light to banish the mosquitoes, but no matter how hard she concentrated, the bugs wouldn't leave her alone. Maybe magic couldn't be harnessed for such trivial things, or maybe she just wasn't as in control of her magic as she needed to be.

Jeb was riding beside her. At the moment, she wasn't speaking to him. At the stable, when she'd mounted her own horse, sitting astride in her white lace dress, Jeb had stared at her, incredulous, like she had shapeshifted in a three-headed dog.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"Will you be able to ride like that?" he asked her. He sounded skeptical.

"Don't you worry about me and Molasses. We'll be fine," was all DG told him.

"You picked a horse named Molasses?" he asked with a laugh.

DG glared at him. "Come on, girl," she whispered to her horse, reaching out a hand to stroke the mare's neck and mane. Squeezing pressure into Molasses' side with her legs, they left the soldiers behind.

Now, out in the woods, her mood was as black as the darkness that surrounded them. In her head she was scolding herself at her impulsive decision and where it had led her. At least she wasn't alone, which was of some comfort. But not much.

Finally, _finally,_ the corporal found a stream, and they stopped to rest.

DG dismounted her horse before Jeb could move to help her down. She held the reins tightly in one hand, leaning close against Molasses. Jeb could hear her whispering softly to the animal. Hass was reluctant to build a fire. Jeb was arguing with him; DG shut them both up by summoning a little buoyant light with floated in lazy circles around them. It would allow them to see what they needed to do, and DG could banish it when they were finished.

Jeb seemed uncomfortable at her impromptu display of magic. In the dim glow cast by her light, she could see him watching it suspiciously.

"It's not going to bite you," she said with a laugh.

Jeb shook his head. "Magic..." He looked at her, then laughed himself. "You didn't bring a change of clothes," he said, gesturing to her ruined dress.

DG rolled her eyes. "So spontaneity isn't my thing," she said tartly. Wet, cold, grumpy. "Sue me."

Jeb looked at her, quizzically. "Sue you?"

She sighed. "Forget it."

An hour later, they were sitting silently in the dark. Hass was sitting apart, watching into the darkness with his heightened vision. Whether he would see trouble coming, DG didn't know. She'd been given the ground cloth to lay down on, and she'd wrapped herself inside of it, trying to keep warm. A little way off, she could hear the horses stamping their feet restlessly. She tried to envision the map Ambrose had shown her, the winding brown line that was the road they now followed. They must know she was gone by now; Hass and Jeb, too, would probably be noticed as missing.

She didn't want to think of the trouble they would all be in if they didn't find what they were looking for.

Her eyes were growing heavy and her little cocoon was warming up. She could hear Jeb and the corporal whispering to each other a few feet away from her, but she was too tired to try and make out what they were saying, too tired to even uncover her head. They'd probably be discussing the mess she'd led them into anyway. Which wasn't entirely fair.

She closed her eyes, slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 

_Roque's black eyes seemed to burn a hole into her skin._

" _An escape attempt," he said through gritted teeth._

_She shook her head. She was crying. Stupid, stupid. "I... I..." she stammered, but she didn't know how to defend herself against his anger._

_He had her by the arm, shook her hard. "Clothes! Food! You are allowed to wander freely; I even move you into this suite!" His large hand gestured around at the lavish, windowless room in which they stood. "And you try to run away! You_ cannot _run away!"_

_Tears fell down her face. "I don't belong here. I want to go home!"_

" _Oh?" he asked scathingly. "And where is your home?"_

_She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it quickly again. She tried to remember, had tried every night to remember where she had come from, where she had been going when she'd fallen down the shaft into Roque's subterranean fortress. Like the girl who fell down the rabbit hole._

" _Rabbit hole?" she muttered, looking around._

_He shoved her to the floor. "What nonsense is this?"_

_She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I don't know."_

" _Pastor's men come tonight. Astronomers, scholars." He snorted a laugh. "Paper pushers. I will come to see you when they have left. We'll be leaving the Outer Zone shortly after. You will return with us over the mountains."_

_She shook her head. "I want to go home."_

_He laughed derisively. "You are home, girl. So look around and enjoy it." When he left her alone, he slammed the door, the hard sound reverberating against the beautiful walls of her prison._

 

 

DG sat up with a start. She put her hands on the sides of her head, as if trying to press the dream out. When would her mind belong to her again?

"Is everything all right, your Highness?" Jeb Cain's voice cut through the darkness.

DG looked around, but the night was too thick for her to see where he sat. "Everything is fine, thank you," she said, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. "And this is your last chance to drop the 'your Highness' crap. Next time I magic your mouth shut."

He didn't reply, and she smiled with the satisfaction of shutting him up. She lay back down on the hard ground, keeping her eyes open, even though in the darkness it didn't matter if they were open or closed. She'd apologize to Jeb in the morning for being so snappy, she decided, when she was on her feet, and it was light outside, and she didn't feel so vulnerable. The wilderness terrified her, though she wouldn't say so. Something was missing, something vital, and she didn't have to guess at what it was.

She burrowed deeper into her makeshift sleeping bag, trying to imagine Wyatt Cain standing watch over her as she slept. The very thought of him, in this all-consuming darkness too much like the inside of her coffin, brought tears to her eyes. Overwhelmed quickly, she buried her face in her hands, shaking. Silently, she fought her sadness. What good would it do to have Jeb Cain hear her crying? Never in a thousand years could she tell him what bothered her.

Then something hit her hard, like a fist in the middle of her back. It was a physical sensation, painful, and she cried out. A hand entangled in her hair and she was hauled to her feet, kicking and thrashing at her unseen attacker.

"Watch out for the girl!" an unfamiliar voice said.

" _Let me go!"_ she screamed. She was being bound quickly, expertly... _tightly_.

It was dark, too dark. She couldn't see. "Jeb!" she called out, hoping for a response, but only the same unfamiliar voice came back to her.

"Quiet!" commanded the voice. She was shoved, and she stumbled. An arm reached out to catch her. "Take care with the Gale."

 _The Gale?_ she wondered. A moment of confusion passed before she realized they were talking about her.

Then a strange thing happened. A voice echoed in her head, from far away. Tutor's voice, deep and calm... and disappointed. _She allows herself to channel her Light through emotion. Her results are, at best, volatile.  At the worst, she could be a danger._ She'd overheard him speaking to her mother one day. _Give me a break, I'm still a beginner_ , she had thought that day.

She tried to empty herself, but it was hard. She was scared, and her courage seemed so unreachable. But a little whisper on the wind told her these were the men who had the answers she sought. These were the men who would lead the way.

DG concentrated, envisioned her mother, calm and unwavering; pictured Cain, blue eyes alert, hand lingering over his holster. Summoning her energy, she focused on the scratch of the rope tying her wrists, and she felt her bindings loosen; she shook them off. She should have been able to make them disappear completely, but at the moment she wasn't complaining. This wasn't performing in the library for Tutor.

_Time to make the old man proud._

When the men were questioned later by the Commander, they recalled flashes of bright light, and a force that moved them bodily, a physical force stronger than anything they'd ever encountered, but as substantial as the wind. But now they looked up at the little girl in the filthy dress, her face streaked with mud and tears, hair undone, eyes blazing. Whatever fury of Light she summoned, it pressed down on their shoulders now, held them before her.

There were three in all, and she held them on their knees with the sheer force of her will. But she was weakening fast, she could feel the Light slipping. "Are you Outlanders?" she asked them.

The three lumbering men made no movement.

"Take me to my mother," she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt a soft touch on her arm, she turned to see Jeb standing behind her. He looked terrified of the very sight of her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and he barely caught her as she passed out.

 

 

* * *

_\- The Underground -_

* * *

The Commander could barely believe what he was hearing.

"She brought the three of you to your _knees_?" he asked. He sounded amused.

Lt. Shore nodded at him. He couldn't quite bring his gaze to meet the Commander's. He'd never been more ashamed of being successful in a mission, but things just hadn't gone according to plan.

"We came across them in the woods. Watched as they made camp, let their guard down. Netted that blasted shapeshifter." Whatever good it had done. Here Shore explained what had happened next, what he could only describe as an explosion of magic from the Gale princess. And here was where the Commander became amused.

"To your knees," he said to himself, laughing.  The Commander stood. "I will go see the girl."

Shore shook his head. "She sleeps and will not waken."

The Commander looked thoughtful. "Have one of the medics look at her. Presumably her use of her gift exceeded her normal limitations, and she will wake in a few hours. But send a medic to her, anyhow. I want to be notified when she is awake."

Shore was dismissed. The Commander sat down at his desk, contemplating this most recent turn in events. He'd sent a small squad of men to abduct the young princess. Instead, the men had found their target in the woods, searching for _them_. She'd cowed his men with her Gale magic. Huge, hulking soldiers, kneeling in the mud before a little princess in a white dress. The idea sounded ridiculous, but he knew... the royal family was not to be underestimated. The Gale line was strong, stubborn, quick and intelligent.

Her soldiers had been blindfolded. Only two men. The girl had run away from the lakeside palace, that much was almost certain, though her men had refused to speak.

The Commander wondered about this display of magic in the woods. Such impressive power would have drained the girl. It might be quite a few days before she would be ready to use it again... perhaps longer. He would have to keep her separated from her sister and the Emerald... quelling his thoughts, he stood and left his office. It was nearly dawn, time to tell the Queen of the O.Z. about her daughter's arrival.

 

 

Wyatt Cain awoke, feeling groggy and out of sorts. He no longer dreamed when he slept, instead was only visited by nightmares. His cell, no matter if it was bigger than the previous, felt oddly like the inside of the iron suit in which he'd waited for so many years. The holographic projection had been memorized, and as he slept it played over and over in his mind.

He was sweating. He got up and stumbled to the tiny bathroom. Removing his tunic, he tried to wash up in the sink as best he could, then turned around and washed his tunic as well, rinsing and wringing it, hanging it over the back of the little chair.

He sat shirtless in the dark, staring at the line of light that seeped in underneath the door. He had no idea what time it was, but he felt like he hadn't slept long. The guards observed their shift change near morning, not long before the old man came, and for this Cain listened.

On the cot, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, he listened. He heard the scuffle of feet, mumbling of voices through the door. He strained to make out what they were saying.

"The skinny blonde one should be moved to the dungeon," said one voice.

"Don't worry. Humans are easy to subdue," said the other. The guards continued to talk, but they were walking down the hallway, away from Cain's cell, and their voices faded.

A new prisoner. _Interesting_ , he thought. One being kept here, instead of down below in the dungeons.

An hour or so later – could he really tell? – the lock clicked, and the door was opened. His new friend shuffled in with his usual fare. Cain sat up a little straighter. "You have more company," the old man said. "Guards of the littlest Gale witch. The kid with her needed a beating to get him into his cell." The old man chuckled, closing his eyes, as if imagining the entire thing again.

"They have DG?" Cain asked, his voice strained. Trying to be quiet, to not alert the guard outside the door.

The old man nodded, and jabbed a thumb at the ceiling. The tray clattered onto the table, and again the old man lit the lamp. Stalling, it occurred to Cain. Again, the old man laughed to himself, a throaty sound. "They found her in the woods. Charging to the rescue. Now who will rescue her?"

At the old man's words, Cain felt a cinch in his chest. He drew in a breath, didn't let it out. The old man watched him with a smirk, then left the room, left Cain alone.


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

_\- The Underground Prison - **  
**_

* * *

When DG awoke, her head was pounding. As her eyes slowly slid open, what she saw first was an unfamiliar black canopy above her head. She sat up quickly, blankets falling from around her; she looked down and saw she was still wearing her ruined white dress. Her surroundings were strange, and she was slow to move at first. The room was large, full of heavy furniture; there were no windows. It took a moment before she saw a young girl, wearing a filthy gray dress, moving about the room.

"Where are we?" DG asked the girl.

The little girl turned; DG had never seen eyes so wide and scared. The little girl said nothing, turned to go back to her work. She was building a fire, stacking wood in the grate.

DG threw off the rest of the blankets, swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"There is a dress for you in the wardrobe," the little girl said quietly as DG stood. "And the bath is through that door." She pointed. "You could take a bath before the Commander comes to see you."

"Who is the Commander?" DG asked. The girl only shook her head; she scurried from the room a few moments later, and the door was slammed and locked behind her. DG looked around, turning in a slow circle. Fragmented bits of the night before came slowly; shouts and rough hands and then light... no, _her_ Light.

She wondered if her sister and mother were somewhere in this place. If Jeb was now being held in the same place as his father, if they were even indeed all in the same prison. She felt very lonely.

DG took a bath, washed, and then cleaned out the tub when she was finished. There was sweet smelling soap, and thick towels. When she was finished, she dragged her fingers through her wet hair again and again until they came away without snagging; she wove her hair into a single braid.

In the wardrobe she'd found a half dozen ankle length gowns, the type her mother favored. But tucked away near the back was a dress that reminded DG a bit of a flapper. It was soft pink and blue, covered with intricate black bead-work. She slipped it over her head; as she moved, the beads clicked together. The whisper of the fabric followed her as she paced around and around the room. Listened for footsteps in the hallway, for the girl had said he was coming. The Commander, whoever that was.

She fell onto the settee, exhausted from walking the room, and waited.

She was tired of waking up in strange places, tired of not knowing what was going on around her. The stranger in a strange land scenario had gotten old, right around Milltown, when everything she'd ever known was revealed to be a lie, and everything that was to be depended on her ability to remember.

Remembering wasn't going to help her now. She thought about Milltown, about Hank and Emily; relocated, motherboards damaged. The units remembered her, but they no longer felt the parental connection, she was just another human, not their child. DG shook the thoughts of out her head, forced herself to think about here and now, and not what was far away and gone.

She was just thinking about where she might conceal a weapon in her flimsy dress when she heard the lock click. DG jumped to her feet.

The man that stepped through the door – could you call him a man? – was huge. DG's eyes widened at his height, towering almost seven feet. Was this an Outlander?

"You are the one the Queen calls DG."

His voice was hard; it made her want to step away from him, but she held her ground. Being scared would not help her. _Courage, girl_.

"I am. Are you the Commander?" she asked. He nodded.

"My men tell me of an impressive display of magic last night in the forest."

DG nodded slowly, feigning understanding. She didn't know what to say, she could only remember bits and pieces of the night before. She'd awoken and then... what had happened? She'd forced her magic, used her fear to channel her Light towards her enemies... but how? She didn't even know, there was so little she understood.

"Will you show me your magic?" he asked, his tone lowering to almost a purr. It made DG shiver. For some reason, his meaning offended her, as if he'd just asked for a peepshow. She shook her head.

"I'm not a performing mobat," she snapped. She'd heard Ambrose use the expression once, and it slipped off her tongue before she'd given it much though. She was so tired of no one understanding the things she said, the Other Side things that came out of her mouth daily.

"How will you prove you are who you say?" he asked her. "How do I know that you are the princess?"

DG straightened. "Take me to my mother. She'll tell you who I am."

The Commander laughed. While sounding perfectly like a laugh, something at the base of it... like rocks scraping together. "You will see your mother when you leave."

"Where is she?"

The Commander turned away. Studied a vase that was sitting on a side table. His massive hands looked like they might crush it to dust; she was glad he didn't pick it up and prove her right. "Your mother is here in the complex. She will be kept separated from you, as will your sister."

"Az... how is she?" DG asked. She couldn't help herself, at the mention of her sister, her heart filled with worry.

The Commander laughed again. "She is a disappointment," was all he said. The words made DG feel ill.

"And what of my men? The palace guard that accompanied my mother. Did you kill them all?"

The Commander eyed this brave little girl. She stared defiantly at him, daring him to step closer, so she might ram her little foot down onto his boot. She looked the type to attack tooth and nail. "I hold five of your men detained. They wait to return you safely home, when you are released from my company.  Unless you refuse to cooperate; then they will die."

DG shook her head. "You make it sound like we're your guests. No offense, buddy, but this place is a prison and we're locked in here!"

The Commander shook his head. "Your door will not be locked, you will be free to come and go as you please. From your room, that is," he added. "You will not leave my complex."

"Are my mother and sister free as well? Why can't I see them?"

"Your mother and sister persist in being bothersome to my men. When the time is right, you will be reunited with your family and your soldiers, and you will be released. As long as I get what I want."

DG didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want?" she asked, narrowing her gaze.

"Something that you are unable to give in your present condition."

She was confused. "My present condition?"

He ignored her, continued on with his welcome speech. "At the moment, we are still within your lands, and that earns you a degree of respect among my men, as does your potent magic. Explore the fortress to your heart's content, but you will not find your mother or your sister. Please, make yourself at home during your stay here."

He turned, and left.

DG stared at the door as it closed behind him. She didn't hear anyone lock it. When she tried the knob, it turned easily. She backed away from the door, her thoughts whirling fast. It was hard for her to say things weren't going as she planned, because she hadn't planned anything out. She never did, she always rushed in and lived minute by minute, taking things as they came.

So how to take this?

_Make yourself at home_ , she thought with a snort and a laugh.

She sat down in one of the hard-backed chairs that surrounded the dining table in the center of the room. She wondered absently about Molasses.

It took her almost ten minutes to find her shoes, tucked underneath the massive bed. The silk slippers were muddy and hard; she knocked them together a couple of times to get rid of the caked mud, then jammed her feet into them. _If I could do one thing differently_ , she thought, _it would probably have been grabbing my sneakers._ Whatever her non-plan had been when she'd left Finaqua, she'd gotten what she wanted. Sort of.

She slowly pulled on the heavy door, and it opened without a sound. The passageway outside her room was brightly lit by bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. As beautiful as the room in which she resided was, the rest of the complex was no match for it. The walls were concrete, sterile and bare. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and so it was these she followed first.

DG wandered for almost an hour. One corner, and then the next, right left straight, it didn't matter. She was hopelessly lost, and came across no one to ask for directions. Suddenly, the idea came to like lightning.

_A light_.

It had become almost second-nature to summon, so that when it didn't happen, she was surprised. "Come on," she whispered to herself, shaking out her hands. Nerves, maybe? She tried again, picturing the friendly little light that dipped and bounced in the air. Her fingers began to burn, but not with warmth... pins and needles like she'd been holding them in freezing water. She opened her eyes, and still nothing. _Why isn't it working?_

She straightened her shoulders, her back. Perhaps better posture would make for better magic, like singing. But instead of breathing from her diaphragm, she tried to focus from the very core of her being. Someone shouted from down a long twist of passages... _Concentrate, DG,_ she told herself. _Focus on Mother... I want to see Mother._

A glow in her palm gave birth to a small, sluggish light. DG, momentarily proud of herself, watched it curiously. It didn't bounce, it seemed to slowly sway from side to side. "Are you okay?" she asked the light. She was worried the poor thing might be falling asleep at the wheel. It gave no response that she could detect, and she wondered if it _could_ respond.

"Can you lead me to my mother?" she asked it.

The light strayed to the left in the air, losing altitude. But in the next second it zipped back the way she had just come, and she had to run to keep up.

Everyone she came across gave her a quizzical look as she ran past. Ragged servants, guards, all human, none like the Outlander who had come to her room. She kept her eyes on the light, not letting the maze of corridors or the random placement of another person in her path confuse her from her purpose. The light would not stop and neither would she.

_Wrong_.

The light slipped down underneath a heavy door, and DG pulled it open to reveal a stairwell, "U" shaped, heading upwards. The door slammed shut behind her, and she wondered if a guard might be following her, but no one came through the doorway after her. The light bounced upwards, now as excited as she, but DG stopped on the intermediate landing, looking up. The light was throwing itself against the door at the top of the stairs, unable to find a way past or through.

"Stop," DG commanded, and ran up to the top landing. She tried the door, but it was locked. She bent down to see a ridiculously complicated looking lock, an electronic keypad, bare wires visible. She looked at her light. "Can you take me to Azkadellia?"

Again, the little light ran into the door. And again – DG held up her hand. "Stop," she whispered.

DG sat down on the top step. The light hovered in front of her, near her hands. "Don't go leaving me, little guy," she told it. It rested on her outstretched palm, but did not disappear. Its warmth was comforting.

She'd been hoping her luck would get her through. She tried to think back on the week before the Eclipse, what had easily been the hardest time of her life. Everything she had faced, she'd done so only because it was the next step forward in the path laid out for her. Here there was nothing for her to follow... and she was alone. Her guardians had followed her every move on her journey, supported her, but here...

The idea came quite suddenly. Her heart jumped, and so did her friendly little light. It spun in a circle around her, almost as if knowing what she might ask before the words escaped her mouth.

"Please take me to Cain."

The little light was off, back down the stairs like a shot, and DG was after it, trying to keep up.

 

* * *

_\- Finaqua -_

* * *

The Army of Resistance had set up a base camp at the edge of the maze, near the road. Bothersome as it was to walk around the maze – no one seemed to want to risk going _through_ it – it was more than Andrus could take to see the Prince Consort running to the front hall every time a soldier came walking across the field towards the palace. A man with a wife waiting at home for him, a daughter grown and married, a grandchild on the way, Andrus felt for the consort.

Andrus had promised his wife he'd be gone a few days. Now he wasn't so sure.

It was fruitless to launch another search party, but the good general had done so anyway to appease Ahamo, and the Queen's advisor, the headcase. The disappearance of the princess had caused an uproar, an echo which still resonated. Reminded Andrus constantly of his failure to secure the girl.

_Punish the boy with such a humdrum task as guarding a princess_ , had been the idea Monday night. Keep the kid out of harm's way. Instead, according to the stable-hand, DG had dragged the younger Cain into the woods. "Said they were going for a ride, General," was all the boy could tell him. "Asked me to saddle their horses, nice as you please. I didn't think anything of it."

_Two little children running off into the forest to find their parents._

His scouts had discovered how far the party had gotten. They'd found evidence of a disturbance, scorch marks on the ground and on the trees. Of that, he had not informed the Prince Consort. As the day drew to a close, as a full day had passed since the princess and her guard and the shapeshifter corporal had sneaked away unnoticed, Andrus grew worried. People were disappearing at an alarming rate, no trace of where they went.

Only the Viewer had any insight. Andrus had waited outside the meditation chamber while the advisor went in to speak in hushed tones. When he returned, his face was a mask of worry.

"Raw indicated he feels the same darkness surrounding DG as he does her mother and sister," Ambrose said, walking back towards his study with the general. Why such a favored family guest had a room so tucked away and private was beyond the general.

"Does this mean he feels she's been captured?"

The advisor nodded.

"Has her escort been killed?"

Ambrose spoke slowly, carefully. "Raw says not."

Andrus was angry. "Why kill two men? Why kill two from the first party, and leave the rest alive?"

"My guess would be that DG and Jeb Cain went quietly. Maybe even willingly."

Andrus didn't like the advisor. The man was too jumpy, spoke too randomly, occasionally spouted song or reminisced at length about obscure, patchy childhood memories. But, at times he was more astute than Andrus himself could ever hope to be. And he truly cared about the royal family.

"The search party had orders to return. Now that it is almost dark, we can expect them at any time," Andrus said. "I don't want any more of my men spending the night in those woods."

Ambrose left the general in the grand foyer, where the man would walk to his camp on the other side of the maze. Ambrose headed towards his study, where Ahamo sat waiting.

"Why didn't anyone tell me DG was assigned a _Cain_ to her personal guard?" Ahamo asked sharply. The slickness of his tongue and the slur in his throat told the advisor that the consort had been drinking. _With due cause. Where's the bottle?_

"Jeb Cain wasn't assigned to this mission, he showed up voluntarily. So Andrus gave him what he thought would be an out-of-the-way job. And, no one seemed to think that DG was going to go running off into the woods." Ambrose sat down at the desk, watched Ahamo where he sat on the sofa.

"You seemed to catch on fast enough," Ahamo pointed out.

Ambrose smirked. "It didn't cross my mind until it was too late. I was distracted," he muttered.

"What happens now?" Ahamo asked.

"Now we wait. Something will happen. It always does."

 

* * *

_\- The Underground Prison -_

* * *

DG was at the bottom of the third flight of stairs. Though the staircase continued downwards still, her light led her to a heavy access door; it slipped underneath. DG hauled the door open, and followed.

A long, dim corridor stretched out before her, rows of windowless doors. Seemingly randomly placed, guards stood outside a few. Her light still continued forward hesitantly. DG took a step out of the doorway, and a voice beside her startled her. "Welcome, your Highness," it said.

DG turned to see a hunched old man holding a broom. He'd been in the middle of sweeping the hallway, and she was in his way. "You know who I am?" she asked.

"I know most of what goes on around here," he said, a bit mysteriously. "And it's not many people we see dressed in your finery down this deep. I am Jowan." The old man bowed his head at her, and smiled at her, his cheeks and forehead wrinkling deeply with the effort. "I am of the western province, or was, when I was young."

"Are you a slave?" she asked, trying to form the question kindly. How did you ask someone a question like that?

Jowan was not offended. "Yes, ma'am, since I was a boy." Strangely, to DG, he didn't seem in the least bit sorry about this fact. "Your little pixie is getting away on you," said the old man, nodding down the hallway where her light ambled slowly forward. He went back to sweeping the floor.

DG followed after her little light. When it stopped in front of a guarded door, the man eyed the light suspiciously. The light stayed, buoyant and strong in front of the door for only a moment longer, before disappearing with a flash. DG took a deep breath.

"Open this door," she said firmly.

The guard laughed. "Not bloody likely."

"I am not asking you to release this man, I just want to see him. I demand to see the captain of my mother's guard," DG said, trying out a voice that reminded her of Azkadellia.

The guard shook his head. "I have my orders, Miss."

"No, you have _my_ orders. Unlock the door," she said, her voice a sharp bark. The guard watched her for a moment, summing up her threat, perhaps. Then he reached onto his belt, took off a ring of keys. Unlocked the door for her, and stepped away. DG beamed at him. "Thank you," she said, with as pleasant as a smile she could muster after having acted so bossy.

DG lifted the latch, and pushed the door open. Light spilled into the room.

He was sitting in a chair on the far wall. When the door opened, his blue eyes raised, and DG felt her heart swell within her chest. She could barely contain herself. She watched as Wyatt Cain stood, his mouth slightly ajar, the surprise of her arrival rendering him speechless.

"Hey there, Tin Man," she said, her eyes glowing.


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

_\- The Underground Prison - **  
**_

* * *

Wyatt Cain sat by lamplight, studying the floor. He guessed it might be mid-afternoon, but he had no way of knowing. Time seemed to trickle in this cell as it had in the tin suit. He sat in silence, only talking when the grizzled old caretaker came by with his meals.

How could two days pass so slowly?

Cain leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. He let his head hang. He was so tired, but he couldn't allow himself to sleep anymore. He might sleep an entire lifetime away in this cell, waiting. Lonely... he'd even take the zipperhead for a cell-mate if it meant someone to talk to.

An interesting sound permeated from under the door. Clicking, like hard-soled heels; very different from the beat of boots on the cement floors. Different from the pad and scrape of the old man's bare feet.

Muffled voices. The lock clicked, and the door opened slowly. He looked up from the floor, interested. A woman opened the door, having thrown all her weight into pushing it. In a knee-length dress she stood silhouetted in the light shining in from the hallway. Cain felt something inside still, then stop, as realization swept over him. He forced his body out of his chair, stood on his feet.

"Hey there, Tin Man," DG said with a mischievous grin.

Cain held himself in check, wondering how it was possible she was here. He'd assumed she'd be imprisoned, under heavy guard. To see her opening the door as if she were just coming for a visit made him suspicious.

"DG," he said slowly. He watched as her smile widened, as if she were happy he remembered her.

"Five minutes," the guard outside the door said firmly, and closed the door behind the princess.

As soon as the door closed, Cain didn't have time to brace himself before she threw herself into his arms. He caught her, folding his arms around her waist as hers wrapped tightly around his neck. She pulled herself as close as possible to him, and instead of being put off by her closeness, he found himself burying his face in her neck and inhaling the scent of her hair. It was unfamiliar; he disentangled himself from her.

DG looked at him quizzically, but in the next second she was stepping back, her eyes searching every inch of him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her. He watched her intently as she dropped her gaze, studied her shoes. He'd seen the shoes already, had seen them when he took her all in as she opened the door, mud streaked slippers that betrayed her ladylike appearance. Fitting, proving it truly was her. But she didn't answer his question; he gripped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, training her face to look at him. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I was supposed to be rescuing you," she said slowly. "But now it seems to be at the top of the list of the stupidest things I've ever done."

"You were captured." It wasn't a question. "But you're not a prisoner."

She shook her head.  "The Commander said he wanted something from me, but that I couldn't give it to him yet."

Cain let go of her face. "The Commander?"

DG nodded. "I guess he's the one running things around here. He said that when he's got what he wants, we can all leave, and go back to Finaqua."

He took a step back from her. "Did he tell you want he wants?"

DG only shook her head. "No. He told me I could go where I pleased, and he didn't lock me in my room. I can't find Mother or Azkadellia. I've been separated from them, apparently. Like we weren't all playing nice together." She laughed at the absurdity of it. Laughed and laughed... and then she was crying. The transition of it was so fast, it took him by surprise. To see her crying, her face buried in her hands.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, guiding her back to sit down in the chair. She felt his warm hand on her leg, a comforting presence. He was whispering now, soothing her as one might a child. "Tears aren't going to help you now, kiddo." He was kneeling beside her. When she looked at him through bleary eyes, she noticed his concern. He was locked up and he was concerned about _her_. It sounded ridiculous, and it knocked her back to her senses.

DG wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Sorry, Cain," she whispered. Her voice was strained. "I just can't seem to keep myself out of trouble." She tried to laugh, but it sounded forced, disjointed.

Cain smirked. "You got that right. What damn fool followed you into the woods this time?"

The question caught DG off guard. She'd never actually considered having to be the one to tell Cain his son was imprisoned... and not only imprisoned, being kept a few cells down. Throw in the fact that this was (once again) all her fault, and she might actually have Cain angry at her.

"Corporal Hass," she said quietly. "He led the way. Jeb and I followed."

"Jeb?" Cain was instantly glaring at her. She cringed a little. But to her surprise, he laughed, shaking his head.

"You know, for some strange reason, that doesn't shock me. So he'll be chained up somewhere down here too."

DG breathed a sigh of relief, nodding. She waited for him to speak.

"Good to know," he said finally. 

Cain watched as she looked around the room, seemingly interested. "These are the slave quarters," she said after a moment.

He nodded. "Moved me up here yesterday. Said my stay had been extended."

DG laughed, wiping her eyes again. "Yeah... they tell you that you're a guest, and then they lock you in."

They sat in uncomfortable silence, knowing that she would be leaving momentarily and he would not be going with her. She didn't like the thought of leaving him locked up in a dark cell. He stayed kneeling at her side; his fingers absently played with the beading on her dress. Minutes passed in silence before he stood up and helped her to her feet.

"You'd best be gettin' out of here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't be comin' down here again, either. You don't want any trouble, and you don't want to find yourself locked in the cell next door." He searched her face for her compliance, but she only stared up at him, her blue eyes so wide and unsure.

DG reached up a tentative hand, brushed her fingertips along his jaw. Rough stubble scratched her skin. He caught her hand in his and pulled it away from his face. Continued to hold it, pressed against his chest. "DG, don't." How long it had been since he'd had a woman in his arms rose up like a wall, palpable, strong.

She noticed him stiffen. "Cain?" she asked. He dropped her hand, stepped away.

"This isn't the time for this," he said firmly. "Or the place."

"Then when?" she asked. Tears were coming to her eyes again.

_Oh please, don't let her cry again,_ Cain thought. He cleared his throat. "DG, I don't know. But what I _do_ know is -"

"What, Cain? What do you _know_?" She took a step forward, toward him, closing the distance he'd tried to put between them.

He shook his head. "This isn't why you came down here."

DG laughed, that crazy ready-to-cry laugh again. "I came down here because I was alone. And scared." Her voice was cracking, and Cain began to feel a break in his resolve. He had to get her out of there, fast, before...

"Listen, kid," he said softly.

"Don't call me _kid_!" she snapped. A biting, cold breeze blew through the cell then, blowing out the lamp, throwing them into darkness. He heard a sob catch in her throat. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I can't stop it when I get upset." Her breathing was shaky, hitched. "You're right, I should go."

Cain reached out for her. She was hugging herself. He unfolded her stiff embrace, and held her arms at her sides. Slid one hand up her bare flesh, finding the sleeve of her dress, playing it between his fingers. DG barely moved, could barely breathe. His hand cupped the back of her neck, tipping her face upwards. In the complete darkness, she couldn't see him, but felt his warm breath as he lowered his face to hers, captured her mouth in a kiss.

The touch of his lips surprised her; sighing, she relaxed into his embrace, seeking the taste of him. With a growl his grip tightened on her neck, and he kissed her harder. Almost immediately, she felt her knees buckle; his hand left her neck to encircle her waist, pull her flush against him. Her hands fluttered upwards to cup his face in the darkness; she kept her eyes open, wishing she could see into his eyes. His tongue brushed up against her bottom lip, and she gasped.

The sudden sound caused him to pull away. He didn't let her go, held her to his chest; she could feel his heart pounding.

Cain swallowed hard. Glad that in the darkness, he couldn't see her face, those vulnerable blue eyes. "Feeling braver now?" he asked her.

DG nodded, though she knew that he couldn't see her response. She tried to pull away but he held her fast in place. The heat from his body was disconcerting, his closeness seemed to be taking away her ability to remember how and when to breathe.

Trying to focus, she waved her hand in the direction of the table; the lamp flickered, then burned strong.

"You should go," he managed to say, though his voice sounded strained. It was the third time one of them had mentioned her leaving, but still her feet didn't move.

DG searched Cain's face, but his expression was stoic, unreadable. She wondered if he might kiss her again, or perhaps if she had the courage to kiss him. But a loud bang on the door brought them quickly back to reality. They broke apart; immediately she missed the warm weight of his hand on her waist.

"Time's up!" the guard grumbled as he opened the door.

Cain had to give her the slightest nudge to get her moving, the push of his fingers on the small of her back. DG's eyes caught his at the touch, and she tried to offer him a smile, but all she could manage was a quirk at the corner of her mouth. She walked out of the room, saying a silent goodbye in her head, not risking the words in front of the guard.

She passed old Jowan on her way to the stairwell. Stooped over, sweeping with a push-broom, he didn't look up at her. But after she had walked by him, she could hear a soft chuckle from behind her. "Nothing wrong with that, Miss. Nothing wrong with that."

 

* * *

_\- The Underground Complex -_

* * *

The Queen of the O.Z. despised her dining partner. The Outlander who sat across from her was cruel and deceitful. But he'd insisted on dining with her since her arrival, taking supper and talking over menial things. "Keeping up relations," he'd said. This evening marked their third meal together, and the first since her youngest daughter's arrival.

"You must let me see her," the Queen pleaded, but the Commander was unrelenting.

"No. I don't need you filling her head with nonsense."

The meal set before her was beginning to cool; she ate very little, and merely let the wine wet her lips. The Commander didn't notice, too absorbed in his own plans.

"I am told your daughter DG knows very little about life on this side," he said. In defiance of his size and occupation, his table manners were quite decent, and though she found dinner unpleasant, it was not intolerable. "They tell me your daughter knows little of her own gift, of her strength."

"Who tells you these things, Commander?" the Queen asked icily. "My daughter is quite capable and in control of her power. She is unconditioned, but she is strong."

"Strong," he repeated with a chuckle. "That she is. She took out three of my men single-handedly. Outlanders, as you call us, exceeding her in size and weight and number."

The Queen tried to hide her satisfaction, a brief smile disappearing in her effort to quell her emotions. "My daughters will not help you, Commander. Nor will they relinquish the Emerald."

"The Emerald was never rightly possessed by the Gales. It's usefulness has passed." The Commander was getting angry, his tone dropping dangerously.

"Neither of my daughters is strong enough to do what you ask," the Queen continued. "You saw that with your own eyes. Azkadellia could not even break her own seal. The power of the Emerald is too strong for either to conquer."

"Your daughter DG will open the chest for me," the Commander said, sounding very sure of himself. "Her performance in the forest is enough to prove that. She will open it."

The Queen shook her head. "She will not be able to destroy the Emerald. She does not have the control."

"We'll just see, won't we? When do you think her magic will renew?"

The Queen sat silent, staring down at the meal in front of her. Impatient, the Commander slammed his huge fist down onto the tabletop. Cutlery shook and wine glasses were knocked over. The Queen jumped.

"A day longer, perhaps less. I cannot rightly judge, I have not seen my daughter and do not know the power of the magic she used prevailing over your men."

"My guards tell me the little witch already uses her magic, just this afternoon. She summoned a light to lead her to the slave quarters where the soldiers are being kept."

The Queen tried to keep her expression of disinterest steady. She laid down her fork, pushed her plate away. "Commander, if my daughter was able to awaken a light companion even after her revelation of power in the forest, do not be deceived. A loyal wisp is a great deal easier to manage than breaking magical bonds set by someone else."

"Even if that someone else was her sister?"

"DG will have no trouble opening the casket containing the Emerald for you, Commander. But, I doubt her conscience would allow it of her. A great deal of trouble and sacrifice went into hiding and retrieving it. It almost killed her.  She will feel a very deep connection, and will not pass it off easily."

The Commander studied his guest from across the table. He stood, walked around the table to her chair, and stood over her. "We will see what DG will and won't do. Tomorrow."

"My daughter is not a cowering, crying child who can be bullied into doing what you tell her to do," the Queen said firmly. "She is a Gale, and she is a good girl. Do not try to force her or bend her will. You won't get the results you expect at all that way."

"Your Majesty," he said, running a finger down the side of her face. The Queen tried not to pull away from the unexpected touch. "I am not a barbarian, I will not try to _force_ your daughter into anything. Coercion can be much more effective, especially against emotional humans.  If her heart truly rules, she will do what is expected of her."

He left her chamber then, his meal unfinished. The door was locked behind him, and she was left alone. The Queen stood from the table, seeking out a more comfortable spot. Dining with the Outlander was taxing, and she was exhausted. She wondered if she might find rest that night.

Tomorrow, the Commander would find that DG could not be _coerced_ easily, no matter how he threatened her. Tomorrow he would find that, though the girl's magic was strong, she had little control, and would be no match for the Emerald. The Queen wondered how long it would be until he discovered that the only answer lay with both daughters. The Outlander was determined to keep them separated.

The Queen unpinned her hair, and laid down on the bed. _DG, Azkadellia, my darlings_ , she thought. But she was weak, tired, and fell asleep almost immediately.


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

_\- The Underground Complex -_ **  
**

* * *

DG did not eat the meal that was set before her in her room at supper time. She found herself eyeing the strange food suspiciously, even though her stomach rumbled. She was _hungry_ , but couldn't bring herself to even prod the steamed and boiled mush in front of her with her fork.

After her unemptied dishes had been cleared away and she'd been left alone once more, DG left her room to wander the hallways, seeking access to the second level, where her mother and sister seemed to be held. But every door she came across, every elevator had the same strange electronic lock. To stop her and anyone else from the lower levels ascending, perhaps to where there was a door to the surface, a way out.

She was trapped.

She memorized the layout of the third level in the hours following supper. Most doors she tried were unlocked, and she peeked into a few rooms. She found chambers like hers, dismal and heavily furnished. She found the guards' barracks, where human guards leered at her in the corridors. Leaving the barracks behind quickly, she walked the third level until she could rightly predict what came around the next corner.

DG was getting tired by the time she descended to the fourth level. Here there were fewer soldiers, and more human slaves. A laundry, the kitchens, and a supply locker that rivaled the size of her private sitting room at Finaqua. "This, I can use," she said to herself, as her eyes drank in shelves and cupboards and barrels of everything that kept the complex running.

On her second walk by the kitchens, a few of the cooks greeted her.

"What are you doing all the way down here, dearie?" asked a large woman, up to her elbows in dishwater.

"I'm just trying to learn my way around," DG told the woman. She was offered a few slices of fresh bread, and she gobbled it up gratefully, looking around the massive kitchen.

"I don't see the point in that. You'll be leaving before you could get the layout of the whole fortress nailed down in your brain," the cook pointed out.

DG looked at her curiously. "Does everyone know that the Commander is releasing us?"

The woman nodded her head. "Yes, Miss. We've all got our orders, and we'll be packing up and heading back over the mountains as soon as the Commander's business in the Outer Zone is complete."

"What exactly is his business in my mother's kingdom?" DG asked.

"Oh, it's not for any of us way down here to say," the woman said thoughtfully. "The Commander's plans are quite confidential. We are just here to keep the complex running during the mission. Ask no questions and they don't cut out your tongue."

DG's eyes widened, and her stomach churned when she saw the woman wasn't joking. "Were you born in the Outer Zone?" DG asked her instead, after a moment of shocked silence. The woman nodded, her jaw tight.

"My father was an officer of the Northern Guild," the woman said. DG thought she might have detected a hint of pride in the statement, but it was hard to tell with the woman's increasingly gruff demeanor. DG realized she was overstaying her welcome, making the kitchen staff nervous. Looking around, she noticed most were watching her, concerned. Perhaps thinking her presence might bring down unwanted attention from the higher-ups.

She made an excuse about being tired, and left the kitchens. Catching on, she noticed most of the servants – _slaves_ , she reminded herself – were watching her cautiously, not with reverence but with trepidation. She realized she didn't like it any better than servants at her mother's palace, tripping all over themselves to please her. She wondered where those quiet, empty hallways she'd found that afternoon had gone to.

She found the access door to the stairwell leading down to the fifth level, where Cain and the rest of the soldiers were being kept like dogs in a kennel, waiting for their owners to come and get them. It made her upset, and uneasy, to know that he was down that stairwell.

_He probably doesn't want to see me, anyway._

She'd return in the morning, down to the fifth level. She already had a plan, and Cain's cell wasn't the only one that she was thinking off. But the morning... how late was it getting? No one in the O.Z. wore a wristwatch that she'd ever seen, and there was no handy man-with-pocket-watch lingering around the next bend in the passage.

Giving up her exploration, she returned to the third level, and her room.

DG didn't like how heavily Cain weighted on her mind. A little ridiculous, like a schoolgirl crush, to be thinking about him so constantly, and that was a far cry from summing up her complicated feelings. She should be thinking about her mother and sister, trying to pry the second-level door off with her bare hands.

Cain, and his kiss.

She had to admit, she'd hoped it was coming. The morning Cain had left Finaqua, she'd hoped. The entire first week after the Eclipse, shut up in the embassy, he'd made sure to see her every day. Her own feelings boiled inside of her, heart leaping every time he would catch her eye, long, heated, sultry looks. Standing off to the side, a quiet, pervasive presence; and, against common sense, she'd believed it possible.

But nothing _happened._ He would never approach her, always waiting for her to seek _him_ out. Then, her family left for Finaqua and he had stayed behind in Central City, reestablishing the Queen's law within the walls of the city, and that was that.  

It took her a long time to find her way back to her room; the distraction of Wyatt Cain proved too much for the maze of corridors. The practiced path of the hedge maze was one thing, this new location was entirely different. By the time she finally found her way, she was in danger of reliving his kiss.

_Stop it,_ she told herself firmly. She was ashamed of herself for falling into his arms so easily, perhaps, after the way she'd been treated. Missing him too much to be mad at him, crying and frustrated... _That's all. Just a moment of weakness..._

_Yeah right, you keep telling yourself that, Deege._

At that moment, she missed Azkadellia, and her heart cried out.

Almost half a mile of stair and corridor away, Az felt DG's despair. It hit her in a curious way, a sensation completely new, and she didn't totally understand it. Her sister was upset, but... not in danger. Az tried her magic on the doorknob once again, then tried it physically, trying the knob until her hand hurt. She kicked the door for good measure, and turned around. She stalked the room like a lion in a cage.

A few minutes later, a maid appeared at the door. Azkadellia rolled her eyes; the guards had mistaken her kick on the door as a request for a servant. "Just knock on the door and the guards will send for someone to serve you," the little girl in the patchwork dress had told her after the Commander's violent visit the day before. "We are here to attend your every need during your stay."

The woman in the doorway now looked nervous. "Yes, Your Highness?" she asked.

Az was about to send the slave away when a sudden thought struck her. "Yes, I am lonely. I would like you to have the guards bring Captain Cain to my room. Immediately." Her tone was harsh, and the woman cringed, curtsied, retreated, muttering to herself, "Cain... Cain." The door was shut and locked. Az grumbled to herself.

"A good princess treats her people with kindness," she berated herself aloud, remembering the words spoken to her by her mother when she was a child. It would do no good to bark and boss people around, to have them terrified of even facing her. The face of the Witch, even with no sorceress behind it, did that well enough without the attitude.

There was a thin robe in the wardrobe, and she threw it on over her nightdress. She didn't have the time or the energy to dress herself into one of the confining gowns in the closet. She sat down uneasily on the sofa, ultimately regretting her decision.

Pounding in the hallway made her jump to her feet again. The door was unlocked, thrown open, and a scruffy looking boy was shoved unceremoniously into the room; he landed on his knees.

"Here he is then," the guard said. He shut the door behind him.

Azkadellia stared down at the young man on the carpet before her. "Who are you?" she asked, confused.

He looked up at her. The youthfulness of his features did nothing to mask the darkness in his eyes; eyes that had seen too much for too long. The glare of a Resistance fighter, she'd come across it again and again, and every time, their eyes burned into her. As did the young man's now. He didn't respond to her.

"I requested Captain Cain," she said shortly.

He smiled, and stood slowly. He moved tenderly; she knew he'd seen rough treatment by the guards. She felt instantly sorry, but her confusion held her in check.

"Ahh, you wanted the good captain," he said with a laugh. He was standing straight, inches between them in height, though his imposing presence dwarfed her. The young man bowed his head to her. "I am only lowly Jeb Cain, his son. At your service." He was mocking her.

Her face hardened. "How did you get here?" she asked. "You were not with our group."

Jeb Cain laughed. "No, I was part of your sister's escort. We met the same untimely fate."

She was silent; she watched warily. She'd been told by DG that Wyatt Cain had a son, a leader in the Resistance, but she'd never imagined him to be so young; someone older, more practiced, perhaps. "Have you spoken to your father since coming here?" she asked him, uncomfortable with the way he was watching her.

"No," he said, his eyes leaving her. "I might have asked you the same thing."

She shook her head. "I only have the word of the Commander that the men are even still alive."

Jeb smirked. "Most of them are."

Azkadellia closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear about more death. She moved to the sofa, and sat down. Jeb took a few steps closer, studying the floor, fists on his hips. She heard the toe of his boot scuff the floor. After a moment, he spoke. "What about DG? Have they let you see her?"

Azkadellia shook her head. "No, one of the maids informed me of her arrival, but I have yet to see her."

She watched him as he slowly walked a circle around the room. His fingers touched the furniture, eyes drinking in the heavy draperies, the dark and depressing fabrics. Like the Commander had, but every gesture of Jeb's was infinitely human. She dropped her gaze quickly when he noticed her watching.

"Who is this Commander you spoke of?" he asked quietly after a moment. He moved closer to the sofa, so she might whisper and he might hear. The guards outside could be listening, probably were.

Azkadellia's voice dropped low. "He is the leader of this mercenary group. They are Outlanders, though most of their force number humans. Outlanders are scarce these days, abroad as well as in the O.Z."

"What do they want?"

"The Emerald."

"Why?"

Azkadellia shook her head. "I don't know. My Light was too weak to break the seal on the box that contains the stone. At Finaqua, maybe I might have been able to, but here, in this dark place, under this stress... it didn't happen. So they kidnapped DG." Guilt was evident in her voice.

Behind her, Jeb gave a quiet laugh. She turned to him. "What do you find so funny?" she asked, sounding quite appalled.

"Oh... well, they didn't exactly kidnap your sister, is all."

Az's head quirked to the side. "What do you mean?"

"She launched her own search party from Finaqua," he told her. "We were halfway to where you'd disappeared, or almost. Outlanders attacked, but she overpowered the group of them with magic."

Az's eyes widened. "DG did that? By _herself_?"

Jeb nodded, a little half-smile on his face. "Whatever she did took a lot out of her. She passed out right after. With her unconscious, didn't take the Outlanders more than five seconds to beat me and the other guy. Blindfolded us, brought us here."

There was silence again after that. Az wanted to be proud of her little sister, but something about what Jeb had told her worried her. Had her sister really been able to wield that much magic so soon? _Poor DG is probably drained dry,_ she thought. _No wonder the Commander hasn't been here for the Emerald yet._

When he did, she'd have to relinquish it. The Commander couldn't take the box by force from her. She didn't know what she was going to do when he asked her to hand it over.

"Are they treating you well here?" she asked him after she couldn't take the silence and his pacing any longer. Watching him tread the same paths she'd been walking for the last two and a half days was upsetting, like reliving horrible memories. She dared a look at his face, tried to see past the bruise under his eye, the cut on his lip.

Jeb smirked. "I've been treated worse. The beating I got when they were putting me in the iron suit, that was worse than this." He'd said it pointedly, like a jab at her. She didn't like it.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. She watched the floor, could feel his eyes on her. Burning eyes, resistance eyes. She got up, walked to the door, and knocked a few times. A guard opened it almost immediately.

"You can take him back," she said. "I want you to send up the warden who is looking after my men. I'd like a word with him about how Her Majesty's soldiers are being treated."

She thought she caught Jeb Cain smile at her as he was marched out by the guards.

 

 

_The halls were a flurry of activity that gave her a funny, panicked feeling in her chest. She ran back to her room, only to find a young girl packing her belongings into bags. Not her belongings, nothing here was hers. The things that were given to her by Roque. Anything she wanted, he provided._

" _What are you doing?" she asked the girl. It took a moment before she realized the dirty thing before her was the girl whom she had shared a cell with below. Weeks had done much to change her perspective on things, already feeling a step above this girl who was merely a slave._

" _Miss Dorothy," the girl said, voice shaking. No eye contact was made. "The order has been issued to make ready to leave this complex. We leave the Outer Zone today."_

_She shook her head, tore from the room. Her shoes pounded the cement floor, the metal of the stairs clanged, reverberated off the narrow walls. She opened his office door without knocking._

" _We are to leave today?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. If he took her away from here, she'd never find her way home._

" _Yes, my pretty," Roque said. He was feeding papers into the fireplace. "You and I travel to the Shining City tonight to deliver the Emerald to old King Pastor. Then we cross the western province to the borders. A week's journey, we will be home."_

" _Not home," she said, shaking her head. She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. The Emerald glinted at her from its open box on the desktop. He caught her watching it._

" _Pastor's scholars have confirmed it is the jewel he seeks. He's offering a copious amount of platinum for it. His money doesn't concern me, however. I've come away from this trip into the O.Z. quite wealthier than when I left." His eyes glittered at her, their complete blackness reflecting the Emerald. She knew he spoke directly of her, her addition to his collection, as it were._

" _The Emerald of the Eclipse," she said, the words tumbling reverently off her tongue. She didn't know exactly what Pastor wanted with the Emerald, but she knew this jewel would shape the future of his country. Her eyes didn't leave the tiny, mesmerizing stone. Roque watched her intently._

" _Would you like to see it before we hand it over, Dorothy? You've been eyeballing it for weeks now."_

_She looked up at him with a smile, one of the few she managed now. "May I?"_

_He nodded._

_She reached over and delicately picked up the gem. She cradled it in her palm; it felt warm... warmer? It was heating up from within, sitting in her hand. She looked at it curiously, as the light inside of it intensified, then exploded in a brilliant burst of green, obscuring everything except the burning in her hands..._

 

 

DG sat up screaming, a cry of misery and pain. The door flew open, and the guards stumbled in, surprised, guns hoisted, only to find the princess sitting up in her bed, screaming! A sound that echoed down every hallway, seeped under every door throughout the complex. Agonized, tormented, the scream erupted...

Two floors below, Wyatt Cain looked up in the darkness. Faint, far off, someone cried out in pain.

_What the hell was that?_


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

_\- The Underground Complex - **  
**_

* * *

It was near midnight when she finally stopped shaking. The nightmare had her nerves completely jolted, worse than anything she'd ever felt. Her screams had subsided as her vision cleared, as her mind awoke, as she realized four people were staring down at her absolutely dumbstruck, no one even willing to reach out and shake her. She felt embarrassed, but... it had _hurt_. Like her hands had caught fire, been plunged into acid, had the skin peeled off.

DG chased the maids and guards from her room. "Sorry! Bad dream! Everything is fine!"

Leaning against the door, breathing hard, she stared at her hands; they looked about the same as they always had. They didn't even hurt anymore, once she was out of bed, moving around, distracted for that crucial moment to break the dream's grasp.

Dorothy had touched the Emerald, and everything had disappeared in flashes of green and white.

In the here and now, DG was unsettled, and her heart was pounding. She waited in the silence of her room for her breathing to slow, to return to normal. By the time she was finally feeling her body calm down, her mind had set itself on a new course. She didn't put her slippers on, not when she was nursing a blister on her ankle from their new stiffness; she didn't even bother looking for a robe. In her nightdress, sleek and black, she left her room. The guard outside watched her walk down the corridor without a word.

She found her way easily, without summoning a light, though she assumed there might be a faster way than the one she had walked previously. When she reached the fifth level, she found only two guards sitting at a table, playing a game of cards. She walked past them, not glancing to the side, not seeing that they stared at her, open-mouthed. She turned a corner, stood in front of Cain's cell. Waving a hand over the lock, she heard it click. When she'd slipped in, she waved her hand again and locked herself inside.

Wyatt Cain had jumped to his feet at her sudden arrival. He watched her carefully as she leaned back against the heavy door, a hand over her heart.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

DG only shook her head. "I couldn't stay by myself."

"What makes you think that they're gonna let you stay down here?"

She shrugged. "Does it really matter where I am?"

"Well, I'm not the one that gets to decide that, DG," was all he said.

"Could you just... not do that for a while?" she asked him. It was dark, and she couldn't see him.

"Do what?"

"You just... rain. On everything. If I had a parade, you'd be right in there with your clouds and rain," she said. It sounded petulant and she knew it. But the sound of her own voice, even as testy and tired as it was, was better than silence. Though even his company was a comfort, a conversationalist he wasn't.

After a moment, she heard him sit down on the edge of the cot. "So why can't you stay by yourself?" he asked her.

She stayed standing in the middle of the room, feeling more and more like a fool with every passing second. "I've been having dreams... unpleasant ones."

"Nightmares, you mean?"

She nodded, then gave a quiet "Yes," when she realized he couldn't see her in the dark. She walked slowly forwards, found the low cot in the darkness with her shins. She turned, and sank down beside him.

"I have dreams about people I've never met before, people who are gone... places that I've never been. I'm tired of my head being someone else's playing field. I wish I knew what was going on," DG said.

"You know, Princess," he said slowly, "you can't always assume that every dream you have is going to mean something."

"No," she said with a small, quiet laugh. "This means something."

"And you're left alone to figure it all out, no breadcrumbs?" His query was soft. Then he chuckled. "So you come to find me."

"It's not _so_ bad, is it?" she asked, after a moment.

"No, not so bad."

Silence. Cain's leg pressed against hers, comforting with its warmth. His bare arm brushed hers, skin against skin. She felt it pulling, like a knot in her stomach. Nervous butterflies, silly little spasms. She searched her brain frantically for something to say... talking would be a distraction, this tension made her want to jump up and run.

_Or you could do something about it._

Cain had been expecting it, the touch of her cold fingers on his arm. He exhaled deeply, letting his head fall back; somewhere in the darkness, the ceiling was above him. She ran her fingers down his arm, tickling him softly, until she found his hand, entangled her fingers with his. DG pulled his hand into her lap, absently stroking his fingers.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked her.

"Not really," she responded, and in her voice he could hear her smiling. _Smiling_ , and caressing his hand like that. It had been a long time since he'd felt as unhinged as this. He didn't like what she was doing to him in this place. This was not where he would choose to get caught with his trousers down... so to speak.

_But would it really have mattered, Wyatt? You knew the minute you slowed down, she'd catch up._

He'd run from her, avoided her. Refused to even write her since she'd left Central City. But now here she was, seeking him out in the dark, and he doubted he could manage to get away. It felt like a trap, and he was reluctant to let her catch him with his guard down.

He turned slightly towards her, with his free hand reaching out and cupping her shoulder. "DG," he said, her name rolling quietly, smoothly off his tongue.

"Stop talking," she commanded, sensing his hesitancy. Bossing him like the princess she was. He let go of her shoulder, grabbed her around the waist, pulled her into his lap. She gasped with surprise at the spontaneous shift in position. "Cain," she said, uncertainty making her voice waver. He pulled her closer, her hip pressing into his stomach. She turned towards him, arms encircling his neck.

"Shh," was all he managed before finding her mouth with his own. His whisper was lost in the deep kiss, her tongue immediately seeking his. A muffled grunt escaped her as he tightened his embrace, one hand near her neck, the other on the small of her back, he held fast.

Heat coursed through DG's veins, replacing the blood that had been there so long. His skin was warm, firm beneath her hands... human contact, was she only feeling deprived? Holding herself steady on his shoulders, she shifted, maneuvering a leg between them to straddle his lap. Her nightdress rode up her hips, slippery fabric sparking green in the dark. She lost his mouth, gasping for breath as his lips pressed against her neck, teeth nipping her skin.

Cain's arm circled her waist, yanking her hips down, pressing her into his lap. The pressure between her legs caused her to inhale sharply, her head falling back. His hands ran up her sides, finding her breasts, warm and soft, clothed in silky fabric. DG hummed low in her throat, lowering herself, guiding his face upwards. She caught his mouth with hers, lips lingering against his, not moving.

His hands slid down her back, lifting her nightdress off her hips. Warm fingers gripped the swells of her backside, pulling her hips down again. He didn't find any underwear, chuckled to himself. "This was a trap," he said after a moment, growling low and squeezing her warm flesh.

"No," she said with a quiet giggle. "I just didn't pack very well for this trip."

Cain pressed against her again, and she could feel him hard between her legs. DG became quite aware just how little separated them. She could barely think straight, only sensations of heat and passion making their way into her brain, muddling her ability to think. His lips captured hers again, sucking slowly on her bottom lip as he released her. She moaned.

He heard it before she did, the heavy footsteps in the hall. Groaning, he held her tight around the waist again, and stood, lowering her to her feet. By the time she found her footing, she could hear it too, guards coming down the hall. The door was tried, found locked. Muffled voices came next.

"Don't run," he whispered in the dark. "It'll make you look guilty."

Next to him, she snorted a laugh. He could hear her straightening her nightgown. A quick shift made his own condition a little less obvious, and he thought about carnage, the iron suit, fishing with his father as a boy, to abate his problem. The guards bursting in the next second helped immensely.

The guard who stepped into the room glared at them. "I'm here to escort the young lady back to her quarters."

DG caught Cain's eye as she walked out of the room, her first look at him since the tiny glimpse she'd gotten when she'd slipped into his cell. The corner of his mouth was turned up in an unimpressed kind of way, but when he saw her looking, his mouth twitched ever so slightly – it could almost have been a smile, just for a fleeting moment.

The guard reached for DG's arm, but she yanked it out of his reach. Scowling, he snatched at her again, catching her and gripping her tight.

"Hey, ow," she muttered under her breath as she was half-marched, half-dragged back down the hallway. Behind her, she heard a dull thud, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. "Wait!" she called out, trying to stop, but the guard held her, pulling her along.

_You can't attack him,_ she told herself firmly. _You can't use your magic. You can't attack him_. She recited this mantra to herself the entire way back to her room.

"The Commander suggests you get some sleep, Your Highness," the guard said when he finally released her arm, up in her chamber. "He bids you wait for him in the morning."

The guard stalked out, and though he didn't lock the door, DG knew she was as good as under house arrest.

She didn't sleep. She sat and thought, tried to remember everything she could about her nightmare, but already it was patchy, a puzzle with missing pieces. Thoughts of Cain kept nudging their way in, but she pushed them away guiltily, hoping desperately they hadn't continued to beat him after she'd been removed.

After a while, she bathed, dressed, then sat down again on the sofa. In her agitated state, the bed made her nervous; the canopy was too oppressive.

For hours, she sat and watched the door. When she glanced over at the clock, it read nearly six, finally morning. The suns would be rising, somewhere in the land above her head where life still presumably went on. A land that could be over the rainbow now, for all it mattered.

She waited for the Commander.

A maid brought her tea, and sat with her, across the room, barely a presence.

She thought of home, Kansas. Hank and Emily. The palace at Finaqua; her father. Ambrose.

Were they being searched for? Of course, that wasn't even a question.

_How well is this place hidden, that they haven't found us yet? The general... Andrus. He's loyal to my mother, he wouldn't stop until we were found. Glitch wouldn't let him stop. And Raw, he'll know we're still safe. Wherever we are, in this darkness. Buried in the ground. They'll never find us._

DG tried so hard to comfort herself in her head, but always, her paths of intention turned to places she didn't want to go. Paths of fear, of depression, and of common sense. Skeptic's path... Cain's path.

_I could use another kiss for courage_ , she thought with a smile.

Second sunrise... somewhere.

Too long... she'd been here too long.

An hour more, she paced. She stayed barefoot, the shoes in the wardrobe too small for her feet. In a sudden burst of impatience, she opened the door, and faced the guard in the hallway.

"Take me to the Commander's office."

"I can't do that, Your Highness," the guard said. He was human, and young. He might not have graduated high school yet on the Other Side. He was definitely not the guard who had hauled her upstairs.

She chided herself for being imperious, tried to soften her tone. She was finding it increasingly easier to make demands, act the part given to her, and it bothered her. She'd been taught her manners, hadn't she? "I want to see him, I have something I would like to discuss."

"We are under no circumstances to take you to the second level," the guard said apologetically. Honestly, aside from the hulking Outlanders, most of the human slaves and soldiers she'd met weren't that bad. All loyal to the royal family of the O.Z. perhaps, once upon a time. But this boy looked like he'd only ever known the tyranny of the Witch.

"Well," DG said slowly, "can I send for the Commander?"

The guard nodded. "I'll go right away, my lady."

DG smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, and closed the door.

A half-hour later, the Outlander stood before her.

"You seem fatigued, Princess," he said, by way of a greeting. "Did you not sleep well?"

DG knew he was feigning concern. The maid had told her that her scream had been heard in most corners of the complex. How that was even possible she didn't know, but it had been quite a while since she'd trusted what she knew, save one thing. She knew she had to get them all out of there.

"Why did Dorothy Gale banish the Outlanders from the Outer Zone?"

The Commander smirked. "Go study your history books. They will tell you all you need to know... what the Gale deemed fit to be told, that is."

DG set her mouth in a thin line, straightening her shoulders. But the Outlander just laughed at her.

"You will get no bedtime stories out of me, little princess. We do not seek to destroy your family, as your mother has been so fond of reciting. We only want what is rightfully ours, and you and your family can go. No hard feelings."

"What is rightfully yours?" DG asked, confused. Then, slowly, an image crept into her mind; a tiny, glowing stone. "The Emerald," she said quietly. Her fingers tingled.

The Commander nodded.

"I can't give it to you, Azkadellia is its Keeper."

"Ahh, Azkadellia," the Commander said, with a shake of his head and a sly smile. "Your sister, it seems, isn't strong enough to open the seal on the box containing the stone."

"How is that possible? She's the one who _placed_ the seal." The Commander only stared at her, a black glare that made her uncomfortable. "Wait... let me guess," she said, realization dawning. "This is where I come in?"

The Outlander nodded.

"Even if I can open the box, I'm not the one that can hand the stone over. I'm not its Keeper. Az..." DG said, trailing off with the thought of her sister. She may have fetched the Emerald from its hiding place, but Az was the one who had _used_ it. She was the Keeper, magically bound to hold the stone until it was returned to the Gale, the true guardian. Azkadellia would never relinquish the stone, of that DG was sure...

Almost sure.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," the Commander told her.

"What makes you think I can do what Azkadellia can't?"

The Commander laughed. "You are the girl who forced three Outlanders to kneel in supplication. We who bow to _no one_ , and you brought them down before you."

DG shook her head. "Why do you want the Emerald?"

"The reason the Emerald interests me is none of your concern. You need not worry about it, the power of the stone doesn't tempt me. The Gales' need for the Emerald has come to an end."

"What if I won't do it?"

The Commander looked cynically at her, shifting on his feet. "Let's not play games, Princess. You want to go home. You want to see your parents again, your sister?"

DG nodded, staring at him with wide, blue eyes. He stepped closer, and she willed herself not to take a step backwards. He leaned down, whispering, "And you want the soldier downstairs... the 'Tin Man', is that what they call them? You want him to make it out of here alive, don't you?"

She stepped back then, angry. No one was going to threaten to take things away from her, play with the lives of those she loved. Not _again_ , she wouldn't let it happen.

"We can stay here a very, _very_ long time _,_ " the Commander continued. "In no fear of your army finding you and rescuing you. You are here until you do what I want, and I can be very, _very_ patient."

He turned and left, the door slammed behind him. DG jumped at the sound.

_You are here until you do what I want._

For her to help break Az's seal. For Az to hand over the Emerald. And then, they'd be free.

She wanted her mother's guidance. But it didn't seem this was all some subtle, intricate plan woven by memory and magic. The mess she was in was solely her fault. No one dragged her into the forest, and when they were found by Outlanders, it had been what she'd wanted, in that 'be careful what you wish for' kind of way.

But they would have come for her anyway.  Being in the forest had only sped up the process.

_They would have come for you. He needs your Light to get to the Emerald._

She didn't know enough about the Emerald. She needed Glitch, and his brilliant, brainy former self. Glitch, who always had known the answers or had asked the right questions when he hadn't.

Ambrose might eventually devise where to find them, but when or _if_ that might happen, she had no idea.

DG fell down onto the bed, buried her face in the pillows. The Commander would return soon. Maybe with the Emerald, maybe with her sister _and_ the Emerald. Maybe not at all... she just didn't know.


End file.
